Limerance
by Kyndred.Raven
Summary: In the wake of death and a wish that should have consumed a life, there was only a phoenix left w he would face the greatest choice in the hundreds of years of his existence–to capture it and burn, or leave it behind and regret it for eternity.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INUYASHA OR ANY CHARACTERS BELONGING TO THE AUTHOR AND CREATOR OF THE MANGA/ANIME. THIS STORY IS PURELY FOR PERSONAL SATISFACTION AND IS NOT WRITTEN WITH ANY INTENT OF PROFIT.

WARNINGS: THIS STORY IS RATED M FOR MATURE LANGUAGE, MATURE SITUATIONS, AND VIOLENCE.

**-O-O-**

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><p><strong>SOME NOTES:<strong>

**This story takes place after the defeat of Naraku. There are a few key differences between the original tale in the manga and the one I will be writing, thus the category may actually border between "Cannon" and "Alternate Universe". **

**Nearly fifteen years have passed since Kagome first jumped through the well, and six since the evil Naraku's demise. The Jewel was not destroyed. Although peace now reigns in the land because Naraku is gone, the threat of the Jewel and the greed it breeds within the hearts of many still exists. Now is the time to wipe it out, and only one can do so. **

**Regarding other events – **

**I realize that this may be unsettling, but I'd like my readers to try and imagine that Rin did not exist. Imagine that our Sesshoumaru has gone through the epic story of Inuyasha as just himself, without experiencing that enigmatic compassion that he showed for his charge. **

**Because of that, he couldn't reach the point of discovering the Bakusaiga. Therefore, he is still missing his arm and still wants to claim Tetsusaiga from Inuyasha (although that desire isn't as overwhelming as it was before). Most importantly though, he never used his Tensaiga to resurrect Rin (or anyone).**

**Other than those things, the story has unfolded as it did before. **

**I hope you will enjoy the read and the adventure as you travel through a new tale full of strife, passion, life, and feelings reaching across time itself. Reviews are always incredibly inspirational, and I cherish every single one. And now, without further ado... **

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><p>-O-O-<p>

_**Limerance **_

Prologue

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><p>The priestess was crying.<p>

Even from the great distance that he stood from her, he could see the trails of tears shining in the fading sun. Her hair whipped around her face, her bangs shielding her eyes from view.

She had come to be a sacrifice – a willing lamb lead to a ritual that would consume her soul. Giving up her life so that the existence of a thousand others could be preserved was a natural decision – she had said. All the mortals involved expressed a great sorrow at the thought of losing her, yet did nothing to convince her to alter her course. Even those that she had traveled with for many years did nothing. They had all simply closed their eyes and deferred to her decision.

Curiously, the one that said the least in protest was his brother. For as long as he had known the priestess, he had heard whispers of her holding the heart of a powerful half-demon. Countless times, he had seen her life be saved only thanks to the strength of her protector, and even though he knew as little of love as he did of sentiment, he had grown to accept the rumors he had heard. Now, however, that acceptance had been shaken. His troublesome brother had not taken any steps towards deterring the woman from her self-destructive course. He'd had nearly a week to do so; the ceremony was a complex one and required preparation. Using the Jewel of Four Souls was not a simple task and required much more substance than a single, accidental, incantation.

The fateful moment had come quickly. Many mortals had gathered; many demons had arrived. The Jewel had been a thorn in the side of fate for longer than they could all remember. Now that the time had come for it to pass into reluctant memory, the lure of witnessing its end had proven to be strong. Commoners, Servants, and Nobility had all gathered here – all present to watch the priestess sacrifice herself for a pure wish.

The humans were mourning the event to come. It was a concept he had trouble understanding. Was one life not worth a thousand others? Was one woman's passing a stirring enough thing to cause such sorrow in so many people? She was just one human – one priestess – one grain of sand in a desert full of dunes. Ordinarily, her death would not even cause a ripple in the fabric of all destiny; with her sacrifice, it could mean so much more. Now, at least, her demise would be honorable; possibly, she would even be remembered for many years to come.

Above the clearing, dark grey clouds suddenly parted to envelop the girl in the center with bright rays of sunlight. With a swift movement, she untied the sash of her heavy, ceremonial robes; they fell to the ground like leaves shed by a dying tree, pooling on the ground in ripples of crimson silk. Beneath, she wore a thin yukata – purest white. Wordlessly, she raised her arms to the sky, and he saw that she held the Shikon in her palms. Her lips parted, but no words came out. All the humans gathered around her dropped to their knees and the sound of prayer reached his ears. An old woman stepped forward and formed a gesture of sealing before her.

"The Priestess will now make the wish! May the Gods grant us fortune in destroying the Shikon no Tama once and for all!" The old woman's voice was filled with conviction, but his sharp ears did not fail to hear the catch in it. Despite her outward determination, she – too – must feel the same as all the others.

A strong wind picked up, rustling the knee-length grass in the field. The trees around groaned and creaked as they swayed side to side. The girl's lips parted farther, as if she was ready to speak; there was an odd thrumming in the air. It almost felt as though the atmosphere was vibrating, and as the tremors brushed against his skin, he suppressed a shudder of discomfort. Without having to be told, he sensed that the source was the girl's holy powers.

"Stop!"

The sudden tear in the curtain of silence nearly made him start. He looked towards the source of the strangled yell and saw his brother charging towards the girl. In that moment, things seemed to be in slow motion. He saw several men jump to stop the hanyou and be thrown back – then a monk who tried to restrain him was knocked down. A woman – the demon slayer – was pushed aside. Finally, a large, feline youkai rammed into him full force; his brother was immobilized.

"Let me go! Kagome! Stop this! Stop!"

Inuyasha struggled beneath the huge demon's claws, desperation written all over his face. It was an expression that he recognized with ease. Those eyes betrayed the same desperation every time their owner rushed to save the one he cared for. Every time the woman's life was in some sort of danger, that unseemly expression crossed his brother's face. Disgusted with such a blatant display of weakness and loss of rationale, Sesshoumaru looked away. Despite the commotion, the priestess did not lose her focus. A light was gathering around her, golden as the sunlight that caressed her skin. Although the wind got stronger and whipped her hair in various directions, he had yet to see her eyes. Gracefully, silently, he moved in a circle until his view allowed him to see her from the front. He could not explain why he did so.

The moment was near; he could feel the peak in energy. The sounds of his brother's struggles continued, soon joined by shouting and cursing of his companions. Annoyed, he tuned them out, focusing all of his attention on the girl who now glowed like her very own sun. At last, she raised her chin and her bangs floated upward, revealing all he wished to see. Pale skin, soft rose-pink lips, cheeks stained by the tracks of tears, and eyes that were the color of the clearest lake. She was the epitome of selflessness – the scent of it seemed to permeate her very soul. Suddenly, she looked down and by some chance, her eyes found his. For a split second, his breath caught in his throat and a chill ran down his spine. He would remember the significance of that for centuries.

"No! Please, no!" Inuyasha yelled.

It was over in a heartbeat. One moment, the girl had stood there – radiant and alive – and the next, she was no more. A great wave blasted through the clearing, knocking down the humans and giving pause to all the youkai. The destruction of the Jewel was complete; its sudden absence from the world felt as though a great flame had been put out. He'd never realized that he could always feel it in the back of his mind; they all could, but it had been such a natural part of existence that none had even known that it was something out of the ordinary. Now, the void it left behind felt almost like a raw wound, the sort that would ache for some time before it finally healed.

In the place where the girl had stood, a great fire erupted. The humans ran – some screaming, some crying. In the commotion, the youkai began to take their leave, one after the other. He was not certain how much time passed – it could have been hours – but eventually, he could only see his brother and his captors. The large youkai finally released him from his bondage and without a second's hesitation the half-demon sprang up to leap towards the fire. He stopped a hair's breadth short of touching it, falling to his knees and digging his claws into the grass. At that moment, another thing happened that Sesshoumaru would not ever forget. Lifting his face to the grey sky, his brother let out a piercing scream. In his entire lifetime, he had never heard such a sound. It was regret – it was sorrow, rage, need, and hatred. The sound moved through the clearing like a storm, dominating everything, even the rustle of the trees. The demon slayer and the monk lowered their heads.

All the while, the fire continued to burn, seeming to be bound to that one place. Nothing around it was touched; nothing else was affected. Only the hanyou sitting before it was tearing up the earth – uprooting plants and running his claws through rock and mud until they bled. Eventually, the monk and demon slayer stood and dragged him from the flames. He was too far gone to put up any resistance.

Again, Sesshoumaru lost sense of time. He thought to stay until the fire burned out, but the crimson flames showed no sign of weakness. At last, he moved forward, curious to see for himself what the fire felt like up close. With every step, the last image of the girl's eyes flashed in his vision. His brows furrowed; his mind retreated into deep thought. He stopped where his brother had stopped – just short of touching the flames with his skin. Looking deep into the fiery depths, he allowed himself to go over the events of the ceremony in his mind.

Everything had started on the eve before the Jewel ceremony, when his curiosity had taken him on an exploration of the forest his brother had once claimed to be his own. It was there, nestled deep between an outcropping of three large rocks, that he had found her. The moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating her body beneath the rushing currents of a waterfall. Her head was tilted back, water trailing down her neck and flowing down to wrap around her body. A mist gathered from the torrents clashing with the river at her feet, giving the entire picture an ethereal effect. Despite her nakedness – despite the dips and curves that were vulnerable to his hawk-like gaze – the only element that caught his rapt attention was the color of her eyes. She was looking in his general direction, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. It was enough. It was enough just to see the shadows moving in those large, blue, orbs to brand the instant deep into his memory. Perhaps that was the reason he had needed to see those eyes before her end today. He was sure that he would never see such depth again.

Before his outreached hand, the fire crackled and brought him back into the present. Giving it one, last, expressionless glance, he turned and began to walk away. Fate, it seemed, had other plans. He took no more than three steps when he felt the heat from the flames disappear. There was a hiss and he smelled the scent of ash. Something in him warned him against turning around.

_Keep moving_ – it warned silently.

But, as always, Sesshoumaru was not one to deny himself any desire. The siren's call of sating his growing curiosity proved to be too alluring. He turned, his gaze sliding to the ground where the fire had raged moments prior. His heart seemed to still; his blood seemed to freeze. Before him sat a child with eyes as blue as the moonlight that had whispered against the bathing girl's skin. Its hair was the color of a raven's wing; its lips and cheeks were the soft pink hue of cherry blossoms. The child's eyes bore into his; he was stunned into complete paralysis. With a soft sound, the creature stumbled to its little feet and took several, clumsy steps in his direction. It lifted its tiny hands towards him and took a small breath.

"Sesshoumaru…" it whispered with a voice as sweet as spring.

At that moment, he thought he'd faced a choice.

Later, he would understand that he'd really had none.

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><p>-O-O-<p>

To be continued...


	2. The First Soul

-O-O-

**Thank you so much to all those that have reviewed, favorited, and put this story on their alert list! I know that in these hectic times leaving a review and adding alerts can be too time consuming. I sincerely appreciate you guys taking the time to add this story to your lists! Your responses urge me to keep going and update as fast as I can.**

**Hopefully you are enjoying the read as much as I'm enjoying writing this piece.**

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><p>-O-O-<p>

**_Limerance_**

**Chapter 1 – The First Soul**

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><p>It was no use.<p>

She always came back.

No matter where he left her, she always found her way back to him.

At first, he simply left her behind. There was no way that she could follow his pace with her pathetic human feet.

After she'd first appeared – and had called his name – he'd been stunned. By the time he had regained his composure, she was tripping over herself to get to him. It wasn't until she was gripping one of his pant legs in her tiny fists that he managed to tear his gaze away from those hypnotic eyes. In a single, graceful, leap, he jumped back to put some solid distance between them.

"What are you?" he asked calmly, his voice bellying the trepidation that he felt. The moment that the question left his lips, he regretted voicing it. The creature was a child, after all. It shouldn't be able to understand complex words, let alone speak. After a moment, his theory was confirmed. His question went unanswered; the girl simply stared. Once again, her eyes gave him pause. It was as though he could see all the way down to her soul.

"…maru…" she mumbled.

Letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he smoothed his face into a mask of firm indifference, turned on his heel, and walked away. This time, he hardened his resolve, and no matter how much his curiosity beckoned him to turn around, he did not. To make sure that there was no temptation, he took to the air, allowing the crisp air to clear his head. A thousand questions had been set aflame within his mind; it took all of his self-discipline not to dwell on them. It would not do to get mixed up in the affairs of mortals. If that child was indeed a form of the priestess, then her instincts would lead her to safety. If she was simply a _human_ child – as illogical as that seemed – then nature would dictate if she was meant to live or not.

It took some time, but eventually his restlessness smoothed out. He pushed the incident to the back of his thoughts, wanting to focus on more pressing matters than dwelling on the existence of a useless creature. Stopping by his brother's forest to witness the ceremony of the Shikon had been a detour from the route of his usual patrol. It was time for him to resume his duties before he began the lengthy journey to his home. Even though Naraku was long dead, there was still unfinished business – rowdy demons, rising rebellions, and general malcontent. Such things were easy to put down; the trouble was that sending vassals to carry out such tasks only resulted in a waste of time and loss of servants. The only way to ensure the completion and efficiency of the tasks at hand was to do them in person.

He had come to terms – over several years – that his life would be much like his father's; home would be a notion he would have to eventually discard. It was a fate he was quite content to accept.

Time moved slowly for his kind.

He enjoyed the peace and quiet of going where and doing as he wished. There was a freedom in this sort of life that he would have had to give up had he chosen to stay and rule his estates. As it was, there were plenty of underlings that could manage the task quite well. If he chose to return, it would only be to rarely check upon the state of things or to appoint new retainers. Unfortunately, with Naraku on the loose, he had not had time to see his estates in many years. Despite his hesitation, he now had no choice but to ascertain their fate.

When the trees began to thin out beneath him, he decided to return to ground. As soon as his feet touched the earth, he realized that he had not eaten in some time. His nose picked up a multitude of scents – humans, fields, leaves, dry bark, a few lower demons, and – he frowned – the stench of pigs. Something else was there too – perhaps something that could be hunted. Was it a deer? Perhaps a strong beast that could give him the thrill of a chase? Interested, he followed the trail, periodically pausing to give his supposed prey a chance to get ahead. Stalking his potential victims was a pleasure he could not forgo, no matter the level of his hunger. He was the most dangerous of hunters – the sort that prowled patiently behind his target and could follow it relentlessly for days. When the victim least expected it – or perhaps weakened from the chase – he would strike and satisfy his need for blood.

So engaged in the hunt was he that he hardly noticed the sun setting. It was only when he came to the edge of a riverbank and saw the moon reflected in the water, that he realized how late it had gotten. Thoughtfully, he watched the clouds part to reveal the ruler of the night. Unbidden, an image floated up from his subconscious. When his gaze lowered to the river, he swore that he could see _her_ standing there. Clenching his jaw, he reprimanded himself for his recent decline in logical behavior. Why did a single, accidental, bit of eye contact affect him so strongly? Why was he having to struggle so much to suppress something so ridiculous?

A twig snapped behind him, and he immediately turned around. His senses flared; his claws were ready to tear through the intruder. Was it his prey? Or was it just some foolish demon, thinking that it could best someone of his obviously higher caliber?

It was neither.

Not prey – not demon – not intruder.

It was simply _her_.

Her clothing was in tatters. There were twigs and dead leaves in her hair. Mud covered her legs all the way up to her knees. He could smell no blood; she wasn't injured. Despite the menacing aura around him, she continued to move forward, only stopping when she was right in front of him. Just like before, she had to crane her neck to look all the way up at him. No tears; no sadness; no typical childish frustration. She might as well have been a doll, so impassive was her face. All around, the sounds of the forest faded away. His tense, poison-covered, hand lowered to his side, the claws retracting to their normal length.

"Sesshoumaru," she whispered.

"Leave."

No response.

"Be gone."

Again, nothing.

A spark of anger ignited in his chest. He bent down to one knee before her, lengthening a single claw and pressing it against her cheek. Why not just kill her? Why not just finish what she, herself, had started in the clearing? It would be so simple. Just one flick of his wrist and she would be torn to pieces. No more trouble; no more curiosity; no more wondering.

"Leave, or you will be destroyed." He pressed his claw harder against her cheek. Blood welled up from the point of contact. His hand itched to do as his less patient side dictated. After some time passed and she did not budge, he called forth poison to his claws. He was prepared – he was ready to spill her blood onto the forest floor – when something cold was pressed against his face. Almost immediately, the haze of bloodlust left his vision and he realized that her small hand was touching his left cheek.

"Sesshoumaru…" she repeated. Hers was not a child's voice; it was the sound of spring rain – the rustling of an autumn breeze. He not only heard it; he felt it, too. Slowly, his hand lowered once more. For reasons he would never understand, he let her live that night. He walked away from her – again – hoping that this time, she would not return.

But, she did.

Whether he abandoned her in a human village, left her lost within the forest, or flew away from her for days, she still came back. After nearly a week, he stopped trying. She was ragged, filthy, and covered in scrapes. In all honesty, he could not explain how some predator had still not found her. The girl had to be the most helpless and vulnerable thing he'd ever seen, aside from the fact that he had yet to be witness to her tears. She did not speak – did not utter a single sound. The only thing he'd heard from her had been his name. How she knew it was a mystery. No matter how many times he'd tried to ask her who or what she was, she stayed silent.

What was he to do with her?

After giving it some thought, he decided that he would leave her to fate. Just because a predator hadn't found her yet, didn't mean that one wouldn't. Just because she hadn't gotten lost, didn't mean she wouldn't. Patience was a virtue he had in endless amounts. He would simply continue on his way. Eventually, she would fall off like a useless scab. A child her age had no chance of surviving without some sort of aid. If she was addled enough to follow someone that wouldn't show her any sign of assistance, then she deserved to die.

Things settled into a tentative routine. He lead, and she followed.

His first goal had been to reach a small village on the southern edge of his territories. There were rumors of a rebellion there. A group of demons – discontent with his dominance of the land – were gathering an army to send against him. Typically, such a thing would not have phased him. Whether it was an army or a handful of youkai, they stood no chance. He had no concerns about facing them; there was no doubt in his mind that he would easily rub them into the dirt like pesky roaches.

It was not the rebellion itself so much as the cause of it that intrigued him. There had not been a rebellion in over a hundred years, when some believed his father had shown weakness by taking a human mate. Naturally, his father had crushed the instigators. Since then, Sesshoumaru had vowed never to let his own image of a powerful sovereign waver in the least. Yet, somehow, it had; now, he was determined to find out the cause.

As he neared his destination, he sensed the presence of a great temple. From a secure distance, he observed it for some time, wondering how it was that he had never come across it in the past. He prided himself on his exceptional memory. The great Sesshoumaru made no mistakes. If he did not recall it, then it did not exist. Thus, he could know with complete certainty that the structure had to have been built in the span of the past ten years or so; that was the last time he has passed through this small area. With a scrutiny that did not miss a single detail, he watched the priests and priestesses go about their daily routines.

The building itself held no interest for him. It was the large, oddly shaped stone in the center of the main courtyard that really caught his eye. It looked to be a sacred monument – the sort of thing he'd seen in many other shrines. There was, however, something different about this stone. Carving littered the surface in strange patterns; he could not recognize the language. Even from where he stood, he could easily feel its power. This was no useless statue or tribute to imaginary deities. This thing was authentic. It radiated the sort of aura that ancient landmarks did – the sort of unexplained strength that pooled in some pockets of nature over centuries.

How, then, had he never seen it before?

The sound of scuffling interrupted his musings. He looked sideways to find that the child had managed to keep up with him as usual. Once more on edge, he waited for the penetrating stare that he had come to expect. It never came. The girl did not even glance in his direction; instead, her attention was completely devoted to the courtyard of the temple, blue eyes fixated on the mysterious stone that rested there. To his surprise, she broke into a run, clumsy – as usual – as she practically rolled and slid down the hill in her fervor. Despite himself, his curiosity was piqued once more. He chose to follow her.

_Only for a moment_ – he assured himself.

The foliage was thick and full of thorns, but such obstacles failed to stop the child. She pushed through the brush, heedless of the twigs and sharp branches that caught at her clothes and hair. Eventually, she broke through the leaves, ran across the courtyard, and practically crashed into the monument. _She's barefoot_ – was his stray thought. Quietly, he watched as she placed her palms against the rough stone, shifting until her lips were pressed against it too. Just like nearly two weeks prior in the clearing, a strong wind picked up seemingly from nowhere. This phenomenon did not go by unnoticed.

The priests that had filed into the shrine for prayer obviously felt that something was amiss. They ran out onto the decks, pointing and shouting something he could not make out over the howling of the wind. The carvings on the stone began to glow. There was something akin to an explosion. When the air cleared, the stone was cracked exactly down the middle. Beneath it, a flame was burning, and the girl was nowhere to be seen. The fire looked exactly as it had when he'd first found the child; the flames beckoned him forward. He moved slowly – wary of the consequences.

Silence opened its gaping maw, swallowing the shrine and its surroundings in a void-like vacuum. The only sound that remained was the roaring of the flames. As he stopped next to the shattered rock, they disappeared, leaving behind the form of the child. At last, she finally looked at him. He did not understand why he felt relieved. The dirt was gone; her hair was clean; her skin was unmarked. The only evidence of her persistent journey through the land was the yukata wrapped around her; it was torn beyond repair.

"Demons!" came a holler from his left. "Demons have attacked the Stone!" It was one of the priests.

"Begone, foul abominations!" Another human stood beside him, notching an arrow in his bow.

_How futile_ – thought Sesshoumaru. There was no way that an arrow could match even a third of his speed. Just when he contemplated tearing out the human's windpipe, the girl sprang up to stand between them, her back to the men. She spread her arms outward in a gesture of protectiveness, an expression gracing her features for the first time.

Anger.

He raised an eyebrow at her antics, thinking that she looked completely ridiculous standing up to someone at least twenty times her size.

"No!" she said firmly. So, she _could_ speak when she wanted to. Then again – he thought – a two letter word was not a sign of literacy. He took an experimental step forward. Her eyes narrowed. "No!" she repeated with more vehemence. In that moment, her unexpected behavior captivated him so much that he tuned out all of his surroundings. Once again, all he could see was those fierce orbs.

Something happened. There was a shift in the air. Before he could reprimand himself for his unacceptable behavior, he was watching as the priest's arrow embedded itself in the girl's back.

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><p>To be continued...<p> 


	3. Into the Light

**Notes:**

**I'm sorry it took me this long to update. My life took some turns that I didn't expect and writing had to be put on hold for a while.**

**In this note, I would like to thank everyone who sent me all those wonderful PM's, emails, and reviews over the past months. It's thanks to you guys that I could find my foothold and start writing again.**

**Thank you!**

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><p>-O-O-<p>

**Limerance**

**Chapter 2 – Into the Light**

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><p><em>He would never forget that day.<em>

_The silence was deafening. _

_The atmosphere reminded him of what the air might feel like after a tremendous explosion. _

_He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps he anticipated a look of pain – or was it horror? At the very least, he expected the child to scream. It was in human nature to express their weakness through sound. He'd heard it often enough. Yet, this thing that was supposed to be human had yet to do something he expected. _

_He didn't smell any blood. Odd, for the arrow definitely hit its mark. But, her face remained unchanged. She still looked at him with anger – protectiveness – as though she could sense the bloodlust in his mind. Experimentally, he let his aura flare out, sending out an intent to kill that only another demon could have felt. To his supreme amusement, her eyes ignited with an even stronger fire. _

_"It's just a child! Atsuo, have you lost your mind?" There was a commotion from the building straight ahead. "You've shot a child!" He did not tear his gaze away from hers. There was no need. He did not need to see the humans to know their movements – vision was not a demon's primary sense. Instead, he focused on the girl. There was a high-pitched whistling. The arrow that was supposed to have killed her cried out in agony as a ferocious flame splintered and devoured it from inside. The ashes fell to the ground and were carried off by the wind. _

_**So, you are not human after all**__, he thought. _

_"That is no child! It is a demon! A demon!" The man who had attacked was already preparing to shoot another arrow. Sesshoumaru debated letting him hit her again. Would she die this time? Or would the arrow burn up as it had before? The bow groaned as the man pulled it back, but just as he let go of the arrow the other man pushed him aside, sending the projectile flying off in a vague direction._

_"Get a hold of yourself!" _

_Still she did not break their self-declared staring contest. Wasn't she frightened in the least? He took an experimental step forward, calling forth acidic miasma to his claws. Again, she narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. _

_"Sesshoumaru…" she said with perfect clarity, her whisper so quiet he wondered if his imagination conjured it. _

_"She broke the stone, Gaku! She broke it!" The tussle between the two humans came to an abrupt halt. He turned to look at them. "She must die!" _

_"But she's just a child…" _

_"Do not be fooled!" came a booming voice from the doorway behind the two men. Both humans suddenly dropped to their knees. The sound of gentle bells struck through the commotion as a woman stepped into the light. Long, flowing hair that was expertly arranged around a gleaming, golden comb rippled down her back. Her headdress was made of silver, displaying various symbols of what Sesshoumaru assumed to be the deities she worshiped It flared out in a semi-circle – like a halo – and was tipped with a set of thin, dangling figures that jingled as they swayed with her movements. On her body, she wore robes of the finest silk – red, white, and purple. _

_**Expensive dyes**__, he thought. Not something a mere priestess could afford to prance around in._

_ He continued digging through his memories, trying to rationalize the fact that he hadn't noticed this place in his past travels when it was so obviously important. _

_**And that stone – it pulsed with tremendous power. **_

_Despite the beauty and lavishness of her attire, the woman was everything but. She wasn't old enough to have her stature shortened by a back broken with years of age, but lines carved through her pale face that told of trials passed and failed. An unfamiliar wisdom in her eyes filled her eyes, the sort of thing he saw in demons that were just beginning to truly feel the passage of time. It was the kind of wisdom that the cruel hand of reality branded into its victims– the realization that the world moved on but mortality and change were out of reach. _

_An aging demon's eyes in the face of a priestess. Without knowing why, he felt unsettled. _

_"That is no child, and __that__," she said with a grimace of distaste as her eyes settled on him, "is most definitely a demon." With mild amusement, Sesshoumaru watched as she shifted her heavy priestess' garbs to reveal a beautifully carved bow. "Be gone from this place, abomination, or I will purify you where you stand!" With supreme grace, she notched an arrow and pointed it straight at his heart. Briefly, he wondered if she would truly dare to shoot him. Surely as a priestess she could sense that his level of power was significantly higher than some common monster that would listen to such ridiculous demands. He kept his silence, suddenly very interested in watching how this would all play out. He decided that the split second that she chose to let go of that arrow, he would rip her to shreds with his claws. A small thrill went through him at the prospect of such an opportunity. He was in a sour mood of late. Perhaps shedding some blood would improve his disposition. _

_"No!" Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, he watched as the not-so-human child lowered her arms and ran to stand in front of him. She faced the priestess with the same determined expression she sent his way just moments prior. The priestess seemed to hesitate; the tip of her arrow lowered a little. _

_"Move aside, or you will die with him," she warned in a calm voice that bellied doubt and uncertainty. He knew why, of course. It was her eyes – the eyes of a child that was not a child. If they could give __him__ pause, then humans would surely be no exception. Heavy footsteps resounded in the courtyard as at least twenty more men ran over to stand next to the priestess. They all wore the same clothing – the robes of monks. In unison, they pulled back their bows in preparation of attack. _

_"Leave now or die!" _

_Still, Sesshoumaru remained silent and immobile._

_With a frown, the priestess raised her bow back towards his chest and shouted, "Fire!" _

_Time slowed to nearly a stop. There was no chance that any of those arrows could come even close to matching his speed. He prepared to jump out of the way, but before his feel left the ground, he was blinded by a flash of light so bright that it nearly disoriented him. He felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, as though something rummaged through his__ very core. Briefly stunned, he shielded his eyes with his arm. The sounds of bells momentarily filled the air, then the wind picked up and a deafening roar took their place, signaling an ironic and complete absence of sound. _

_Slowly, the light died down. His sight returned, and he looked on with some surprise to see that all of the humans had been knocked back. Their weapons lay shattered. The arrows they shot were strewn about on the ground, burned almost beyond recognition. The only one standing was the priestess, who looked pale as death. An expression of horror contorted her white face, as though she'd just seen her inevitable death approaching. Without conscious intent to do so, he found himself seeking out the child. He glanced at the place where she had been standing, only to find nothing but charred earth and tatters of cloth that he identified as her clothing. _

_Suddenly, he realized that her presence – just like the Jewel of Four Souls – had been a tangible thing to him. Though he hadn't realized it before, he had always been able to feel her there. Even when he left her far behind, in the back of his mind he knew she would return. Now, however, realization granted him no such feeling. _

_There was no presence. _

_There was no certainty. _

_There were no blue eyes and no voice to call his name. _

_There was only the horrified look on the old woman's face and a feeling that he could not name._

-O-O-

Sesshoumaru opened his eyes to see the rising of the sun.

Nearly three years had passed since the incident with the stone at the mysterious temple, and still he dreamed of it. It was unacceptable to dwell on these memories. Yet, no matter how much he told himself not to think of that day, the dreams came all the same. He struggled to forget the look of horror on the priestess' face and the emptiness he felt after he realized that the child vanished. And, just as he fought to forget these things, he also struggled to find the reason for his inability to do so.

Many times, he returned to that place, only to find that the temple in a state of abandoned neglect. The structure collapsed in a storm and now amounted to nothing but a pile of rubble. There was no sign that anyone had been there for centuries. It was hard to believe that people lived there only a few years prior. The stone remained a hollow, broken shell. No longer was there a throb of energy around it. All in all, the place resembled any other abandoned shrine, and no matter how many times he returned to try and find answers, there was nothing to be found.

He shook his head.

The whole incident was a mess that he did not want to deal with, especially now. So, as he always did, he forced all thoughts of the past to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

Over the past several years, a conflict between warlords – once again – slowly matured into a full-blown war. Humans were, as a species, prone to such things. It seemed that their desire for power and influence manifested itself as an obsession that drove them to kill each other over and over again. Surprising that there were still enough of them alive to continue the cycle.

As the reigning Daiyoukai of the Western Lands, his responsibilities included the suppression of massive conflicts that threatened to tear his lands apart. Although time gave evidence to plenty of incidents related to territorial disputes among his kind, it was humans who wreaked the most havoc. It was these mortals that were still under the illusion that they were truly in control. In reality, the four Daiyoukai truly ruled the lands and could twist and turn the fate of them in any direction of their choosing. Typically, human wars were allowed to occur. The negative energy, blood, and suffering they created made for the perfect atmosphere for demons to secure footholds within society. Suffering, after all, strengthened demons and kept the human population under control.

Some wars, however, were too great to be allowed to pass. One such war occurred around the time of his father's death. A pointless dispute over an heir to the Shogunate accelerated into a series of battles and massacres that devastated the land for nearly eleven years. The humans called it the Onin War. Sesshoumaru still preferred to call it carelessness. Had his father not been distracted from his responsibilities, such a thing may not have come to pass. It was this war that gave many demons the courage to begin their own small conflicts and to rise up against the Daiyoukai for the first time in centuries.

_We are still paying for this in blood and unrest_, he mused. In fact, he could almost see a direct line between the events of the past and those of the present. The current war was – as before – over the legitimacy of an heir to a powerful house. At least, that was what the humans believed. This time, however, the humans were not alone in their fight. Tribes of youkai that before remained silent and fearful under the iron rule of the Daiyoukai now boldly forged alliances with the humans to fight against the four rulers under the pretense of aiding the humans in their own goals. As a result, the battles were more devastating and the damage to the lands and people much more critical than before.

He had been traveling for nearly three days to reach the location of the most recent battle. As the location came into sight, he saw right away that things were indeed as dire as he predicted. The lands before him were scorched bare. Where a previously a flourishing farming community spanned the area, nothing was left but ash and blood. He walked through what he supposed had been the center of a trading village. Merchant caravans lay tipped over, their goods spilling forth like the innards of a felled beast. Nothing had been taken. That alone was a sign that the ones responsible for this destruction had been demons. Demons did not loot and pillage - their reward was power and the pleasure of the kill.

As he continued to slowly make his way between burned down huts and charred crops, he was careful to avoid stepping on any bodies. Men, women, children –they were all there. Some had died fighting, others had simply been cut down where they stood. Their expressions were ones of frozen fear, rigor mortis having permanently carved the powerful emotion onto their faces. Some fires still burned, the flames feasting on carnage long after the end of the battle. There were no survivors. Only buzzing flies and oily-black ravens inhabited this place now. The cries of the feasting birds were shrill and angry. He watched a group of them fighting over a piece of meat and turned aside in disgust. He did not want to be here, surrounded by filth and desolation. This place was rank with human stench, worse in death than it was in life. He _had_ to stay, however. He _had _to know what happened and who was to be held responsible.

He harbored his own suspicions. For a long time now, he theorized that the Neko Tribe was behind some of the upheavals in his lands. There was no concrete evidence. They attacked in the night and left no trace of their presence by morning other than a trail of bodies that lead nowhere. His councilors believed that his hatred for the tribe fueled his negative opinions. His father had waged a long and trying war with them, after all. But Sesshoumaru argued that this was not the case. Although no one had seen the tribe for nearly 20 years, he knew that they waited for the right moment to strike. It was a gut feeling – an instinct. When instinct called, there was no ignoring it.

Something reflected the light of the sun and caught his attention. As he moved closer, he saw that the metallic eyes of a child's doll were responsible for the brief flash. He turned slightly. A child lay not too far from where the toy had been dropped – a girl. He could not see her face, as she was lying on her side. Her hair was tangled and matted with blood, her skin covered in scratches and soot. Normally, he wouldn't have spared her a second glance, but there was something almost familiar about her. Curious, he looked closer. It was something about the color of her hair – black as the void, but unusual enough to reflect a blue sheen in the light. The color of a raven's wing.

_Sesshoumaru…_

The voice floated to him on the wind. A sudden cold gripped his chest. It was only thanks to centuries of self-control that he stopped himself from frantically reaching down and turning the body over. He, Sesshoumaru, was never frantic – he was never irrational. Stomping down the initial shiver of dread that slipped down his spine, he gingerly placed his foot under the body and turned it over.

_Sesshoumaru…_

The child's hair still covered her eyes, but he saw a pair of familiar, pink lips. Three years had gone by, and he still remembered her face as though she was chiseled in his memory. He would have recognized those lips anywhere. And that voice – it spoke to him from the darkest corners of his recollections. Slowly, he unsheathed Tokijin and pressed the blade to the child's cheek. In a swift motion, he flipped the ruined, black hair aside to reveal her eyes.

_It's not her…_

The feeling that came next was completely unexpected and nearly overwhelming.

Relief.

It was just another human child.

_What is it that I was expecting? That she would suddenly reappear after all this time? _He frowned. _Ridiculous…_

Sheathing his sword, he stepped away from the body and continued his passage through the village. The relief stayed with him. It was as though all of his senses had been alerted all at once. Adrenaline still rushed through his system. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword with enough force to whiten his knuckles. He berated himself severely for his unacceptable behavior. The thing was dead. It had died all those years ago. Good riddance. There was no room in his life for a distraction, and he would be damned if he repeated his father's mistakes.

* * *

><p>"Look there, Shin – another one," a young man said as he spotted a plume of smoke in the distance.<p>

"Do you think we're too late?" said another man behind him.

"We're always too late, Ryo." In response to these words, the group of young men lowered their heads. The one called Shin was the leader of this group. There were fifteen of them, all dressed in the same colors of black and white. Across their backs, they carried satchels, bows, and quivers full of arrows, while on their waists they carried swords. To an outsider, they looked like priests or monks traveling the road, but they were far from such. They were not samurai, ronin, or even simple farmers. In their minds, they had no place.

"Don't say that Shin. Sometimes we find survivors," Ryo argued. The man who had pointed out the plume clenched his fists.

"Damn this war. I don't understand it – any of it. What's the point?" His voice was full of anger and frustration. The group paused and Shin put a hand on his shoulder.

"Takahiro, we knew what we would face when we agreed to do this. We knew, and that's why we came. Don't forget why we're here." When he saw that the man was too angry to reply, he signaled for the group to follow and set off again. It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. By the time they did, the smoke had died down and nearly disappeared. As they took in the scene before them, anguish filled their eyes. Some put their hands on each other for support, while others trembled with a barely suppressed fury.

"They're just farmers…what did they do to deserve this?"

"It is not our place to judge, Takahiro," Shin said calmly. "Now, everyone, split up and search for anyone who may still be alive. Let's do what we came here to do." Without waiting to see if the group would carry out his orders, he moved forward and began his own search. Takahiro's friend, Ryo, tapped his shoulder. He shrugged him off.

"My mother and sister lived in a village just like this," Takahiro said quietly. Ryo frowned. When he first met Takahiro nearly two years ago, the youth had been just another survivor in a growing rash of conflict that spread like a disease across the land. His family was slaughtered in cold blood by a band of demons carrying the banner of the current daimyo. Around that time, the two prominent factions who were at war over the lands sought alliances with the demons of the area. Destroyed villages like the one Takahiro was from were becoming a common sight. It was only for the opportunity to assist others like him that Takahiro had joined their cause – the cause to walk the land and help those who suffered most from the growing war.

"I thought I saw something moving over there. Let's go see what it was," Ryo offered, trying to pull his friend's thoughts away from their destructive path. He pulled on his sleeve and walked forward. Takahiro watched him go and squared his shoulders, trying to reign in his emotions and concentrate.

They picked their way through fallen wood and overturned crates and barrels until they stood in front of a small house. It stood apart from the other huts and probably belonged to someone important. Only rich merchants and traders could afford to build homes out of such fine wood in small villages. As they approached, they heard a thudding coming from inside. Hope leapt into Takahiro's chest and he jumped forward.

"Hello? Is someone there?" he shouted. "Don't be afraid! We're here to help you."

"Wait!" Ryo shouted. "It could be dangerous!"

Ignoring him, he rushed to pull open the sliding door and screamed when something black sprang forth and knocked him backwards. The attacker caught him completely off guard. Rolling to his feet, he quickly drew his sword and prepared to fight for his life, only to hear his friend chuckling behind him.

"Careful Taka – I hear ravens bite." Still disoriented from the sudden scare, he looked wildly around for his aggressor. When he looked up, he saw a raven flying away, cawing indignantly at having been so rudely awakened from its slumber. Slowly, he took a deep, steadying breath and waited until he could no longer hear his heart pounding before rounding on his partner.

"I don't want to hear that from you, Ryo. Not when you nearly gave away our position that one time because you saw a spider on your shoulder." Still laughing, Ryo waved him off.

"That won't work with me, Taka. I don't have a pride for you to insult with such petty reminders." Takahiro sighed and sheathed his sword. Ignoring Ryo's statement, he turned around and finished pulling open the door – this time with more caution. What he saw made his eyes widen. A woman's body was sprawled on the floor, her clothes in tatters. A deep wound in her stomach bled crimson, but she still drew breath. Both men rushed to her side and knelt beside her. She clutched a small bundle to her body. Neither of them had to guess what it was.

"My daughters…my daughters…" she croaked.

"We're here to help you," Ryo said dumbly, taken back by the suffering and sadness he saw in her eyes. Though he'd seen plenty of injured and dying people in his time, this woman's obvious pain was almost tangible. Unable to meet her gaze, he looked away, feeling like the worst of cowards.

"My daughters…please…help them…"

"I'm going to get Shin. Stay with her Taka." Without waiting for his response, Ryo flew out the door. His friend cursed. Left alone with her, Takahiro felt bile rising in his throat. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? He reached into his satchel and pulled out strips of linen, feverishly pressing them to her wound. Even as he did, he knew that it was too late. The blood continued to seep through the cloth and between his fingers.

"My daughters…"

"It's alright…he's gone to get help. We'll help you…we'll help you…damn it, why won't this stop?" Red filled his vision as the blood bloomed over the linen, covered his hands, and started to stain the floor beneath the woman's body. Suddenly, she grabbed his arm. Even through his sleeves, he could feel how cold her hand was.

"Take my baby…save my baby…" she pushed the bundle in her arms towards him.

_Damn you Ryo, where are you?_

"But, your baby is…" he stopped at the desperation on her face. Her eyes were haunted. In a flash, he remembered his mother's face as she lay dying on the ground. Just like this woman, she had died to protect her child. His hands shook. Slowly nodding, he took the dead child into his arms, helpless to refuse her. "I will…" he found himself saying.

"My second…she ran outside…she lost her doll…" Her hand went limp and dropped to the ground with a sound that seemed to echo all around him. "Thank you," she said as she breathed her last.

"Please hold on. We're going to help you…" Takahiro pleaded. But it was too late, her eyes were already fogging over, her body visibly stiffening. Just at that moment, Shin and Ryo jumped into the doorway.

"Where is she?" they asked almost in unison.

"Dead," Takahiro replied tonelessly. "She's dead."

A beat.

"Taka," Ryo whispered, "there was nothing we could have done." He walked towards his friend and squeezed his shoulder. "I know what this means to you, but there was nothing we could have done. Her wounds were too great."

"She wanted me to keep her child safe," the boy mumbled in response. "But it's already…" he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. "It's already…"

A sudden wail knifed through the heavy atmosphere in the room. All three men jumped. An animal? No, the sound did not resemble a beast. It was a child's cry, and it had come from Takahiro's arms. Shin ran over to the two men, his eyes confused.

"It's alive!" Ryo shouted. "By the Gods, it's alive!"

Not daring to believe it, Takahiro moved aside the thick swaddling to see a pair of huge, brown eyes. The baby's cheeks were covered in ash, but even that could not hide their rosy hue. When she saw the three men looking down at her, her eyes filled with tears and she wailed again, this time crying with all her strength.

"It's a miracle," Takahiro whispered.

"We should take her to the priestess," Shin said.

"Are there no others?" Takahiro asked. Sadly, the leader shook his head.

"No. Now let's go before that crying attracts any unwanted attention."

"I want to bury the mother."

"There's no time for that, Takahiro. The sun is nearly setting and the night brings demons." He knew that very well, but he still felt guilty as they left the house and regrouped, preparing to set off for home. They had made a large circle around the land. It took them nearly three weeks to travel from village to village. This was the second scene of destruction that they ran into, but the only one with any survivors. As much as they would have wanted to press on, their supplies dwindled dangerously, signalling that it was time to return home before setting off again.

Thoughts of home swirled in his mind as Takahiro walked with the child in his arms. She had stopped crying now and sucked on her thumb. At home, she would be taken care of. There were plenty of women who would take her in – women who lost children just like her in this senseless war. Then there was the priestess, who would bless the child. At the thought of her, his cheeks turned a little red.

The beautiful and kind priestess Midori was the center of all their deeds. She was the one who had gathered them together for a common cause all those years ago, and she was the one that continued to lead them towards a brighter future. There were rumors that she was a vessel for the soul of a Goddess. From the first moment that he'd laid eyes on her, he had been convinced that this rumor was true.

"You should name her, Taka," Ryo chuckled as he elbowed him in the side and startling him out of his reverie. Takahiro glared.

"That's not a man's job," he protested.

"Still, you saved her. I think you should name her."

"She's not an animal or a pet, Ryo. I can't just give her a random name."

"Then don't make it random. Make it thoughtful." As if understanding that she was the subject of the conversation, the child opened her eyes and made a gurgling sound. Ryo tickled her under her chin and she giggled. Despite his claimed reluctance, a small smile tugged at the corner of Takahiro's lips.

"What should I call her, then?"

"Something not at all random," Ryo offered jokingly. This time, Takahiro chuckled. Brushing some strands of soft, black hair away from the child's face, he nodded. The name was already there, on the tip of his tongue. It was a name he said in his heart all too often after the death of his family. That day, he had not been there. He had been out by the river, slacking off instead of tending to the fields as he was supposed to. When he returned home, he found everything in ruins. Demons had raided his village. By the time he made it to his home, his sister was already dead, and his mother was only a few breaths from joining her. Since then, he blamed himself for living – for not being there for them.

Now, with this child, perhaps he could make up for that.

"Rin," he said suddenly. "I'll name her after my little sister."


	4. What I Seek

**Limerance**

**Chapter 3 – What I Seek**

* * *

><p><em>It was a dream. <em>

_He was dreaming. _

_Sesshoumaru knew it the moment he spied her in the water. _

_Somehow, his mind had taken him back to that moonlit night – the night that her eyes had captured his soul. _

_She stood in the river, the water rising up to her waist. Her head was tilted back, her eyes closed against the gentle stream of the small waterfall above her. One hand was raised – she held her fingers against her throat. The expression she wore was one of utmost peace. _

_The moonlight caressed her skin as gently as a lover's hand. Every curve – every dip and swell of her body was exposed to the bright, blue, radiance of the night. To think that he remembered it in such sharp detail was disturbing. That night, he'd thought that he watched her with an impassive gaze. How wrong he'd been. An impassive gaze could not have captured the memory with such perfection. He could even see the goose bumps on her flesh._

_He watched the water trickle down her throat, swore that he could see her pulse there. That thin, graceful neck, those small, delicate fingers, those long, black eyelashes beckoned him. That's when he realized that one thing was different from his memory. He no longer hid in the shadows of the forest. He waded in the stream. The water should have been cold, but he was too enraptured to feel such a shallow sensation. Instead, he was mesmerized as – with a small sigh – she opened her eyes. This time, she did not look in some vague and general direction. This time, she looked at __**him**__. As before, he felt as though he'd been hit with something cold in his chest – like a spike of ice drove itself into his heart._

_He moved forward before he could understand his need to do so. In a blink, he appeared before her, looking down as she craned her neck to continue looking into his eyes. His hand reached up, his claws tracing the outline of her jaw. His need for her was so primal, so terrifying, that he couldn't move. Those eyes – those haunting eyes – looked deep enough to drown in. To think that she had faded; to think that she was no longer there! How dare she? How dare anyone take those eyes from him? _

"_You disappeared…" he ground out. Her hand came up to cup the one he held against her cheek. "Why?" Her lips moved but no sound emerged. Frustrated, he brought up his other hand to close around her neck – a threat, no more. "Tell me why…" Again, her lips moved soundlessly. She looked almost pained. Something small and warm brushed against his chest. Her hand, he realized. Without meaning to, he leaned down until he felt her fingers brush against his ears. The foreign sensation caused a shiver to tighten the muscles in his body. Like this, her eyes seemed even bigger. The color took over all of his vision – it surrounded him. _

_With a frustrated and almost pained growl, he leaned even farther down and pressed his cheek against her neck. Her heartbeat fluttered there, like a small butterfly caught in the grip of a predator. Perhaps that wasn't so far from the truth. He didn't understand his own desires. After all this time, he still didn't know what he wanted most – to kill her, harm her, have her, taste her, or possess her. The unknowing was maddening. Slowly, with more gentleness than he thought he could possess, he pressed his lips against her neck, trailing a path upwards until his mouth was right next to her ear. _

"_Tell me…how have you bewitched me so?" The sound of the waterfall faded into the background. Only her breathing remained. In and out, in and out. Then, without warning, she whispered – _

"_Sesshoumaru…" _

-O-O-

The priestess Midori awoke with a start.

Covered in cold sweat, she tried her best to settle her heavy breathing. Her heart pounded with force of drums within her chest, as though her feet just ran a hundred miles through a field. Remnants of the dream flashed like lightning in her mind. Deeply unsettled by what she had just seen, she swung her legs over the side of the bedroll and stood. Her knees wobbled and she barely stopped from hurting herself as she stumbled and hit her shoulder against the wall. Almost immediately, there was a rustle and a knock at her door.

"My Lady? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Mayu," she called out reassuringly though she felt far from "fine" at all.

"I heard a noise. May I come in?" Suddenly afraid that another would see her in such a state, she gave a firm denial.

"No! I mean, it's alright, Mayu. It's just a bad dream."

"Another vision, Priestess Midori?"

"No," she replied almost breathlessly. "Something…else…" At last, her guardian was satisfied with her reply.

"Alright, My Lady. Please call if you need me. I am always here." The devotion and complete loyalty in her voice calmed Midori and made her severely uncomfortable at the same time. She sat back down on her futon and tried to gather her muddled thoughts. The same dream plagued her yet again – the same one she'd been fighting for years. It's reappearance surprised her. The dream hadn't tormented her in months. She was so sure that it finally released its hold on her. To see it again now was a shock to her system.

In this dream, she always repeated the same blurred scene - an image of a river and its parent waterfall. The moon shone brightly through the dead of night. Although she felt at peace, a fear still lurked in her heart. It grew and grew until she felt its weight to be unbearable. Then, right as she wanted to plummet into the cold water to drive away the feeling, _he_ stood beside her. His beautiful face always appeared out of nowhere. As in every instance of this dream, she did not know what he was – an angel reaching out help her, or a demon bent on devouring her soul. He would move closer and closer until she could feel his body heat. So tall, like a mountain. When he stood in front of her, he blocked out the moonlight.

Damn those mesmerizing eyes. They blazed like twin embers in the night. The moon maliciously gave them even more fire. Such passion was written there that she couldn't move away even if she'd wanted to. In that moment, if he asked for it, she would have given him all that she was. That's what frightened her the most – that she would let another being overpower her that way. Letting out a muffled groan, she buried her head in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. For the first time since she first experienced the dream, she dared to utter the one word that always plagued her afterwards –

"Sesshoumaru…"

A name, a title as beautiful as his angelic whiteness. Suddenly, something clicked inside her mind. Just like the dream, flashes and images moved before her eyes. A forest, a ceremony, a crowd, a man crying out a name with a trembling voice. For a split second, she knew all of it. Then, as suddenly as it rush at her defenses, the knowledge retreated once again. She felt weakened, almost drained. A memory? It had to be.

"Sesshoumaru…"

As soon as that name slipped past her lips, she knew that she had tasted it before. Was it a clue to her past? Could this man be the key to unlocking her memories?

Three years prior, Midori awakened in the forest without a clue of who she was. A priestess named Akiko found her, naked and shivering in the grass. At first, the woman assumed her to be another survivor of the war. But, as time went on, the woman found out differently. She could purify water, heal the sick by merely touching them, feel the rain before it came, and even make flowers bloom in the middle of the harshest winter.

For a long time, she did not have a name. She didn't want one, hoping that she could remember who she was. She clung to that belief, but as the months flew by, her hope faded with the spring and summer. With a heavy heart, she took on the name "Midori" and accepted her new life. But, that was not the end.

Midori learned that Akiko led a group of monks and priestesses on a mission to help the survivors of the raging war. Rumors escalated that the leader of the Western rebellion searched for an ancient power that would awaken something sinister. As a holy priestess, that was something that Akiko could not allow. She offered Midori the chance to train as a priestess to follow her on her various travels through the lands. It was her goal to find the power before the Western armies and to destroy it before it could be used for evil. Very often, they did not have a particular direction, their sources too unreliable to provide concrete goals. They often camped in the middle of nowhere, but tried to stay in villages when they could. Although the common people feared being heard, they believed in priestess Akiko and told her things they would not have dared to tell anyone else.

Soon, they heard tales of a mountain that radiated holy power. When someone was ill, they would be taken up the mountain and watch their ailments dissipate in its presence. Although Akiko heard of several mountains housing such energy, she still wanted to investigate. Any chance was better than none, and she couldn't risk passing up even the smallest opportunity of finding a solution for her people. It was on this particular outing that Midori discovered something that would change her life forever.

-O-O-

_In their search of the mountain, the group had come across an ancient shrine. There was no sign of people. Almost immediately, Midori felt a swelling of power somewhere deep inside the shrine. When she mentioned this to Akiko, she agreed that they needed to explore every part of the grounds. They entered cautiously, with weapons drawn, but found the inside of the buildings to be just as empty as the outside. In the main building, there was a set of elaborately decorated doors. At Akiko's bidding, the monks helped pull them aside to reveal a deep, dark, chamber. They lit a torch and saw a passageway covered with protective seals that hid a winding path underground. As though hypnotized, Midori walked towards the entrance. _

"_Midori?" Akiko called. _

"_We must unseal it…we must go forward," she recalled herself saying. She would forever regret that moment. Once again, at Akiko's order, the monks tore away the seals and opened the passage. A cold breeze from within gave them all pause. _

"_We must go forward," Midori insisted._

"_Are you certain, Midori?" Akiko asked. The passage had to have been sealed for a reason. _

"_Yes," she answered confidently. Reassured, but still cautious, the monks followed the two priestesses into the passageway. Another cold breeze doused their torches. Just when they sought to light them again, an eerie, blue glow emanated from the narrow corridor ahead. Midori's feet took her farther forward, until she entered a vast chamber made of stone._

_In the very center stood a large, tall rock that was littered with patterns and carvings in an unfamiliar language. It, too, was surrounded by seals. This time, Akiko was full of doubt. She hurriedly ran past the monks to stand in front of Midori. _

"_We cannot go farther." _

"_Why?" the girl asked in a distracted voice. She saw Akiko, but at the same time could not tear her gaze away from the stone. _

"_I have heard of this stone, and no good can come of coming any closer to it." _

"_My Lady?" one the monks called. "You've seen this before?"_

"_Not seen, only heard. I must have read about it in a sacred text somewhere during my research. I cannot recall where. The only thing I remember is the text mentioning five sacred stones that house a power to unlock the soul of a great Goddess with tremendous power." _

"_Then that's perfect," Midori said. "Perhaps she can help us overpower the Western rebellion." _

"_No," was the priestess' firm reply. "Nothing good can come of unleashing such a thing. There is a reason this is sealed away." She put her hands on Midori's shoulders. "We __**cannot**__ go any farther." _

"_Forgive me, Akiko, but I must…"As though possessed, Midori shook off the older woman's hands and continued to walk forward. The group watched on in fear, unsure of what they should do. The priestess had just warned against unsealing the stone, yet Midori – a girl whose judgment they trusted just as much – insisted on doing just that. By the time Akiko made the decision to stop her adopted daughter, it was too late. Midori had pulled out her bow and shot a holy arrow through the thick bundle of seals, the force piercing the stone to the very core._

_A great tremor shook the chamber. From where the arrow struck the stone, a large crack began to grow until the thing was cloven in two exactly down the middle. Midori cried out as something sharp and silver shot forth from the rock, aiming for her chest. Just as it was about to hit her, she saw Akiko's face in front of her. Somehow, the priestess had managed to jump in front of her. She only had a split second to scream a denial before her world went dark._

* * *

><p>The next time she awoke, everyone was kneeling beside her. The priestess Akiko was dead. With her dying breath she named Midori as her successor. She claimed that the girl existed as a vessel for the Goddess that would stop the spread of darkness. Whether the priestess did so truthfully or as a way to assure Midori's protection, she could not say. As Akiko had been the trusted leader of the group, no one doubted her word. Deities and Goddess – Midori still wasn't sure if she believed in them. What deity would allow such a pure and kind soul to die for someone else's mistakes? Akiko was the only family she had. She did not want the title of Head Priestess. She did not want to shoulder the burden of leading so many for a cause she hardly had any faith in. But, it had been Akiko's will. Her mother's will. If anything, Midori wanted to do everything she could not to disappoint her.<p>

Over the passing of the next few years, she led her followers to help hundreds of other survivors in the region and bring them to her cause. At least she had the knowledge that she was helping in some way. She scoured all the texts she could find for more information about the stones, but each search revealed more and more disappointment. Either the information had been hidden, or it had been lost over the centuries. Whatever was the case, hope for finding the other stones faded as her hope had once faded for finding her true past.

Her powers grew and began to frighten her. Visions of suffering and anguish often plagued her in her sleep. To her horror, the things she dreamed of almost always came true. She hated it, but knew of no way to to fight against it. Although she loved the people that now lived with her, she wanted to be free of the role Akiko had chained her to. Despising herself for not having the courage to get away from it all and be true to herself, she continued to live the life she had awakened to, wondering when she would finally be free.

It seemed that tonight was that time.

As she said Sesshoumaru's name, a new courage burned in her chest with renewed heat. She was searching for something, she realized. It was something important, and the one named Sesshoumaru was a key to finding it. With a new determination that she never felt before, she stood and walked to her door, sliding it aside. Mayu, her guardian, looked startled.

"My Lady?"

"Mayu," she began.

"Are you ill, My Lady? You look so pale…"

Midori shook her head. "Not at all, Mayu. I was just going to ask if you could bring me some water. I am parched." The woman smiled brightly, eager to help in any way she could. Guilt pulled at her heartstrings, but the priestess knew that it was now or never.

"Of course, My Lady. I will return in just a moment." She waved to the guardian's retreating figure with a forced smile. When she was certain that her footsteps faded into silence, she retreated into her room, pulled on her warmest clothes and stepped outside. On her way out, she grabbed a bow and quiver from the wall. There was no time to take anything else. Once outside, she ran as quickly and as silently as her sandals would allow. She had no direction and no destination, but that was nothing new. For now, she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the village as she could. Morning would come soon. She would have to travel all day before she could be certain that she had covered enough ground. Only then would she stop; only then could she allow herself to fully comprehend the consequences of her decision.

* * *

><p>By midday she reached another village. Despite her attempts to remain unnoticed, a farmer spotted her in his field. Immediately, he recognized the famous priestess Midori. She hated to lie, but pushed aside her morals in favor of survival. After she claimed that she was on a mission of utmost importance, he gave her a satchel full of food and provisions. She declined his offer of money. No matter what her circumstances, she refused to take something she was sure she could do without. Before leaving, she asked him not to tell anyone about her mission, or the fact that he had seen her at all. She warned him that her followers may try to seek her out.<p>

"It is vital that they do not know where I am headed. The task I have before me is a trial that I must complete in absolute solitude."

"You saw this in a vision, My Lady?" he asked her with trusting eyes.

"Yes," she nodded gravely, hating herself.

"You must not fear a thing, Priestess. No force in the world could make me reveal what I have seen today." She had feared as much. The loyalty of her followers truly frightened her sometimes. To think that these people would give their lives for her – for someone whom she was convinced wasn't holy in the least. The thought strengthened her resolve to leave. The sooner she learned the truth of her existence, the sooner those people could be safe.

As she traveled, she lived off the land. It was easy enough. During her time with Akiko, she learned the art of healing using herbs and berries. There was no plant that she could not identify. Being a priestess, she did not eat meat. The prospect of killing another living creature for the sake of a meal made her ill. Food, therefore, was not a problem. She had two water skins in her satchel that she filled up at every opportunity, making sure to follow the path of the river for as long as possible to stay near a water source – at least until she could determine where she was really going.

Days passed and still she did not feel a calling. Somehow, when she'd left her home, she had imagined that this would be much simpler. She thought that her heart would lead her to the right place. But after several nights of dreamless sleep, she realized that she was just wandering aimlessly. Who was this Sesshoumaru? He was obviously far from human. Although the image was blurry, she could recall his silver hair and glowing eyes. No man had features like that. If he _was_ a demon, wouldn't he kill her on sight? She was, technically, a priestess. Her kind were enemies to all demons. Would he even give her a chance to explain herself before attacking?

_Even if the chances are not in my favor, I must try,_ she thought with determination. She decided to try praying to settle her doubts and insecurities. It had been days since she'd purified herself in water. Perhaps it was this and her negligence for meditation that was muddling her spiritual senses. She walked a little farther and found a gurgling stream. Making sure there was no one around, she removed her clothes, donned her white bathing yukata from her satchel and – shivering – entered the cold water.

Almost immediately, her mind cleared. Inwardly, she began to chant a mantra of prayer that often helped her enter a state of "nothingness". She focused on the words, the syllables, and the meanings of every phrase until all she could think about was prayer and the sound of it echoing in her heart. As the fog slowly cleared from her thoughts, she began to analyze her situation. She wasn't a stranger to traveling, she had plenty of food, and she could protect herself if the need arose. She was confident that her instinct would eventually lead her towards the right path. It might take weeks, but she would find her way.

_I should not think of what I cannot do. I should only concentrate on what I can do now, and right now I can move forward. _

As soon as she made the decision, she felt much better. She opened her eyes and smiled peacefully.

_Now I better get out before I catch a chill. _

Cautiously, she lifted herself up onto the riverbank, wringing out the hem of her robe. It was cold, but it wasn't anything that she wasn't used to. Still smiling, she moved to a low hanging tree branch and began to unwind her sash in preparation of hanging her clothes out to dry.

There was a sharp sound from behind her – the sound of a branch breaking beneath someone's weight. With a gasp, she whirled around, instinctively lunging towards her weapon on the ground. With a speed gifted by adrenaline, she notched an arrow and pointed it towards the source of the noise. During the past few days, she had not come across any beasts or demons. Perhaps tonight her luck had finally run out.

Another branch snapped. She could easily detect the heavy demonic aura of the intruder now.

"Show yourself, demon!" she shouted defiantly, refusing to give into her fear. The foliage rustled several more times before a figure stepped into the moonlight. Her eyes widened. A man. He had silver hair and beautiful, golden eyes that gleamed in the night. As he stepped forward, her eyes traveled upward to see a pair of white ears on his head. His look was one of disbelief. Could this be the man she was searching for? The hair was the same, as were the eyes. Her dream image had never been very clear. How many demons could possibly have such features? Something about him was different though. He did not possess the grace and ethereal beauty that the man in her dream did. Uncertainly, she lowered her arrow.

The figure spoke. "It can't be…" it mumbled in disbelief.

"Sesshoumaru?" she asked cautiously. The figure didn't answer; instead, he prepared to leap forward. Interpreting the movement as an attack, she cried out and released her arrow, knowing that it would miss. She didn't stop to see if it had. Her mind had gone blank. All she could think of now was getting away. In a blind panic, she allowed her feet to take her on a mad dash through the forest.

As she ran, she sensed the aura of the demon falling behind. That was hard to believe, considering that demons were much faster than humans. She _had_ shot him though. Had the arrow hit its mark? Something inside her – a part she didn't recognize – hoped that she missed. Her breaths came in loud, strained, bursts. She felt branches and thorns cutting at her skin. Rocks and broken wood dug into her bare feet.

Run. _Run! _Run far away!

As she moved forward, the cold air bit into her flesh, seeming to cut her to the quick. She stumbled a few times, but kept going. Dimly, through the rushing of blood in her ears, she heard the sounds of him following her.

_I have to stop. I can fight him. If I just concentrate, I can purify him. _

_**No! You must run! Run away! **_

It was fight or flight – a natural response. Yet in that moment, nothing felt natural at all. Reason was a startled bird trying to fly away. She desperately clung to it, refusing to let it take wing and abandon her.

"Wait!" his voice called out to her. "Please wait!"

He must have been out of his mind to think that she would listen. As she processed how ludicrous his request was, she tripped over something and fell to the ground – hard. In some far away corner of her mind she felt the skin on her knees and elbows shredding. Unfazed, she pulled herself to her feet and dared a glance backwards. To her horror, she saw that he was closing in. The bird of reason finally slipped through her fingers. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were nearly black. She turned and kept running, a horrified shriek escaping her lips. She lost all sense of time and sound. Her vision narrowed to the path before her until she could barely see that either.

Then she collided with something and was nearly knocked backwards with the force of the impact. A tree? A boulder? Something cold and rough scraped the skin on her cheek. Senseless with terror and the instinct for survival, she felt she would vomit. The impact had dazed her, momentarily disorienting her. She nearly lost her footing. In fact, she would have if the tree hadn't wrapped its branches around her to keep her steady. She looked up with wide eyes and nearly fainted from the sight.

There was no doubt now.

_This_ was the man she had been searching for.

"Sesshoumaru…" she whispered in a constricted voice that was sore from her screams.

Now was the moment of truth.

She was either saved, or cornered by two very powerful demons.

* * *

><p>To be continued…<p> 


	5. What I Find

Notes:

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and messaged me!

Your feedback always inspires and encourages me.

I've been asked several questions regarding the current background of my story. In response, I've updated my original author's note in the prologue, but I'll list the answers here for my ongoing readers so you don't have to flip back to it.

Spoilers for the series ahead!

Because Rin never met Sesshoumaru in this story, he went through the series without developing the compassion he was famous for in the manga and anime. Because of that, he couldn't reach the point of discovering the Bakusaiga. Therefore, he is still missing his arm and still wants to claim Tetsusaiga from Inuyasha (although that desire isn't as overwhelming as it was before). Most importantly though, he never used his Tensaiga to ressurect Rin (or anyone).

I hope this helps answer some questions.

Let me know if you have more ^_^

* * *

><p><strong>Limerance<strong>

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>He was dreaming again.<p>

He had to be.

A dream was the only rational explanation for her presence.

Again, he marveled at the clarity of his memory of her. This time, he could even smell her scent. Sesshoumaru inhaled slowly – deliberately – wanting to savor every bit of this new detail. Her hair smelled of the forest – pine and crushed leaves. It was different than what he remembered, but it was pleasing all the same. If he had to give it a name, he would have called it the smell of autumn.

She looked directly at him, her gaze boring through his defenses. Her hair was soaked and plastered to her skin, loose strands accenting the softness of her face. Against the dark contrast of her black hair, her eyes burned a bright sapphire. Something soft and warm moved against his hand; he realized that he was touching her hair. At some point, his hand had traveled upwards to stroke the wet tendrils of inky blackness.

Yes, this had to be another damned hallucination. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, her chest pressed firmly against the solid, heavy plate of his armor. She had come to him willingly - had even _run_ to him, something that never would have happened normally. He would never have allowed it – allowed _this_. It was disgraceful – it was repulsive – for a noble ruler of his stature to touch a mortal so freely. Inwardly, he cursed. She was pressed so close against him, swaying like a sapling in the wind. If his hand hadn't been supporting her back, she would surely have toppled to the ground. There was so much desperation in her eyes, a look that was unfamiliar to him. The woman he remembered never begged, never pleaded. In fact, he had trouble remembering any time that she had called for help in his presence. The look she wore now unsettled him inside, and he cursed again.

He needed to push her away. Now. These dreams were becoming parasites upon his sense of duty and honor. If he allowed this to progress then he would muddle his priorities. Her lips parted on a gasp. He watched them closely, wanting to take in every bit of color and texture before he reigned in his willpower and forced himself to end this absurd proximity. Like in all the dreams before, he expected silence to emerge, and therefore nearly started when her voice emerged instead.

"Please…" she whispered breathlessly. "Please, help me…you are Sesshoumaru, right? Please, help me."

She was asking for his assistance. Upon sifting through his memories, he couldn't find any time when someone had dared to do such a useless thing. After all, asking him for help was the equivalent of asking a tiger to stop hunting or asking for the sun to never rise again. The only person he ever assisted was himself. No other being was worthy of the honor. Yet here she was – asking as though none of that had ever mattered.

The world shifted around him, and he suddenly realized something. His surroundings looked nothing like the dream he saw so often. Where was the stream? Where was the full moon? Where was the waterfall and the enclave in the forest? He was standing in an empty clearing, just at the edge of a line of trees. Then it clicked. This dream was not a dream at all! She was really here, or at least something or someone that resembled her. Upon first seeing her sprinting towards him, he had lost the sense of his surroundings. That such a thing could have happened to _him_, the Great Sesshoumaru, was an indignity that couldn't be ignored.

How had he made such a mistake? He was in complete control – he was _always_ in complete control. He prided himself on his iron willpower. So, where was it now? Had it been sucked into the depths of those blue eyes? Was it her fault, or his? Did it even matter? The fact remained that he had allowed this small, water-logged, bag of flesh and bones to pick at cracks in his self-control that he thought were non-existent. Bit by bit, she pulled him down from perfection into pandemonium. There was no way in hell he would permit it.

Fury, strong and unbidden, rose up like a conflagration in his lungs. His hands tensed; his claws elongated. Heedless of the fragile skin beneath those claws, he tightened his grip on the woman's arms until she yelped in pain. Excellent. That was what he wanted. Her fear was palpable; it permeated the air – completely overrode the natural scent that he had foolishly believed attractive. Yes - she had to suffer; she had to pay with her blood for daring to make him lose control. Damn her to hell!

His patience was quickly unraveling – turning into ribbons that were scorched into nothingness by the fiery vengeance of his wounded pride. He gritted his teeth to suppress a growl – forced his features into a cold mask. He would, himself, be damned if he showed any sign of weakness before this _thing_ again. Sickened by her very presence, he shoved her away from him as though she was diseased. In his rage, he did not check his strength. The simple movement sent her flying and skidding several feet away. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of air being forced out of her lungs. Had he hurt her? He dearly hoped so. She struggled to get to her feet, her face so pale that she looked like she was made of fragile porcelain.

"If you want to stay alive, you will not stand up again," he ground out.

For a moment, he thought she would heed his warning. But he should have known that she was more addled than she looked. As though she had not heard him, she pushed herself to her feet and sprinted towards something on the ground. It was a bow; he hadn't noticed it until just now. In fact, there was a quiver strapped haphazardly to her back. He had somehow overlooked it, too. She was muttering something under her breath. His eyes narrowed a degree. If she was indeed the woman from so long ago, then she was still a priestess. Was she mumbling an incantation? Was she really stupid enough to think that she had any chance of overpowering his far superior strength? She reached backwards, hoping to grab hold of an arrow, only to realize with a horrified expression that there was only a single one left. The feathers on it were torn. From prior knowledge, he knew that it would not fly correctly no matter how skillful her aim.

Good.

This was good.

He would take great pleasure in humiliating her before ripping her to shreds. Responding to his anticipation of the torture to come, miasma gathered around his claws – green and dripping with an aura of malevolence. He was poised to strike.

She was still panting heavily. Her heart hammered so loudly in her chest that it was impossible not to hear the crazy rhythm. With trembling hands, she notched the arrow. As soon as the bowstring was pulled all the way back, the air went cold and absolutely still. The wind died, the trees stopped swaying, the grass stopped moving. Time, itself, seemed to stop. Then, the terror on her face shifted. Her features smoothed out, the heavy lines of distress disappearing. A sculptor had somehow transformed the stark image of dread on her visage into the perfect picture of composed dispassion. The metamorphosis was so quick and unexpected that his own mask of stoicism nearly fractured.

Then _another_ surprise – he saw that the arrow she'd prepared was not aimed in his direction. Instead, she turned around and pointed it towards the forest. Her back straightened, her shoulders moved her torso into a posture full of grace. Composure emphasized each movement as she donned confidence like broad, thick, armor. Had she lost her mind? She was aiming at nothing. Unless she hoped to somehow fell a tree with a single arrow, he saw no purpose to her actions.

He was frozen in place by the clammy hand of uncertainty.

Then he heard it – footsteps. Bare feet were trampling loose dirt at an inhuman speed. He widened his senses only to discover that the action was pointless. His eyes revealed everything his instincts hadn't felt before. There, right before him, stood his half-brother – Inuyasha.

* * *

><p><em>It's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. There's no way that she's here! <em>

Inuyasha's mind echoed with a thousand voices. They were all conflicting. Some said he was delusional while others assured him that his gut had never failed him. When he came upon the woman on the riverbank, his very soul had fallen into chaos.

_There's no way…there's absolutely no way…_

But there it was – her scent. It was different, more natural and covered in overtones of wool and soaked cotton – but it was there. It was _her._ He wasn't sure where the pain came from first. His head exploded in agony, while his heart constricted into knots. His stomach felt as though it was being chiseled out with a knife, while his legs felt weak and unstable. His mind went blank. Inuyasha was not known for thinking things through. He usually acted before analyzing the consequences of anything he did. In fact, he wasn't sure that there had ever been a time when analysis had seemed important. What good were theories, plans, and strategies when it was so much simpler to just leap forth with confidence to overcome all obstacles? Right now, there were definitely none of those things in his mind.

All he could think about was running to her, holding her, speaking to her. Ever since her disappearance, his guilt and regret slowly devoured him from within. He blamed himself for ever allowing her to make that final wish. In fact, he often dreamed of that fateful day when he stood by silently until it was too late. Some part of him knew that there had been no other way to rid the world of the Jewel and its evil, but the majority of him simply didn't care. He was selfish – he had always been. Before he met Kikyo, he learned to live only for himself. Over time, that feeling dulled somewhat as he experienced _her _kindness, but despite everything he had gone through it never fully disappeared.

He wanted to turn his back on the world; he wanted to spit on the Jewel and all it represented. The woman that stood shivering in the water now had become his world. Over the years in their conflict with Naraku, he began to covet her until there was no doubt in his mind that she was his and his alone. They had sacrificed much for each other; they had even decided to stay together as long as mortality allowed them. Until the day that she made her completely selfless choice.

What insanity had come over him all those years ago? What had made him agree to her ludicrous proposition? He still didn't know. Now, however, it no longer mattered. By some twist of fate – or perhaps a miracle – she was standing before him now. His priestess was within reach. All he needed to do was jump and catch her in his arms. He didn't think – what did thoughts matter anyway? Only gestures held any significance.

But, it seemed that his sudden actions were a mistake. As soon as he jumped towards her, she let loose an arrow he hadn't realized she had been holding. It hit him, stabbing through his leg. The pain only vaguely registered. How hadn't he seen that? Then again, he wasn't too surprised. Years of battle had taught him that – where the priestess was concerned – he developed tunnel vision much too often. He reached down and pulled the arrow out of his appendage, watching her bolt and disappear into the trees. Naturally, he followed.

He let loose a string of curses when the wound throbbed every time he moved. It slowed him down, but not enough to lose her trail. She couldn't run far – no human could outrun him, wounded or not. The chase went on for some time until, finally, he burst out of the last bit of foliage and stepped into a wide clearing. To his surprise, she stood calmly before him. Her impassive gaze stirred bad memories. She held another arrow notched and ready to fire. She didn't speak out loud, but her eyes spoke volumes. He knew that he shouldn't move now. The situation had quickly become dangerous.

_She wouldn't hurt me…why is she pointing that at me?_

"What are you doing?" he asked aloud. "I'm not your enemy." He held up his hands in a calming gesture.

"Take one more step and I'll turn you into dust," she warned. Gods, how he'd missed her voice.

"Put that damn thing down. Don't you recognize me?" He stepped forward, trying to inch closer to her. If he could just grab her and hold her close, he was certain that she would come to her senses.

"I _mean_ it, demon." Something painful scraped a dull knife against his heart. Demon? She had never called him that. Always, she kept in mind that he was sensitive to references to his heritage. There was definitely something wrong here. The sooner he captured her, the sooner he could find out what it was. As he inched forward again, he felt a familiar weight around his neck. The prayer beads – he had never had the courage to remove them. Even after the power in them died with her, he held onto them. He feared that if he got rid of them, he would somehow be throwing away the last of what remained of her.

_But she's alive now_, he thought. _Maybe they'll work again. _He frowned. _I can't let her use them. If she subdues me now, then she'll have a better chance to get away. I've got to catch her before she can. _

Just as he prepared to leap towards her again – arrow or not – he felt a powerful, evil, aura clash against his own. His eyes narrowed and a growl shook his entire body. The sensation was, unfortunately, too familiar. The hilt of the Tetsusaiga was clenched in his grip before he completely turned to the intruder. He kept it sheathed. For now.

"Sesshoumaru…" he said through a clenched jaw. Of all the times for his damned half-brother to show up! Then it clicked. He understood. His beloved priestess' strange behavior, the absence of recognition in her eyes, and her readiness to attack him – Sesshoumaru must be responsible for all of it! "You bastard! What have you done to her?" His half-brother's expression didn't waver, but the miasma that surrounded his claws grew upwards until it surrounded his entire body. The demon's silver hair – so much like his own – shifted in a phantasmic wind. Inuyasha dropped into a defensive stance.

"What are you doing here, half-breed?" Sesshoumaru asked impassively.

"Shut up and tell me what you've done to her," was Inuyasha's fierce reply. Instead of obliging, his brother turned to face the priestess. No answer was forthcoming. "I'll kill you if you've hurt her!" The warning didn't faze Sesshoumaru. The half-demon might as well have been yelling at a block of stone. With some alarm, he saw that the demon was slowly moving towards the girl. The hairs on the back of his nape stood up in alarm. Despite the confidence he held in his abilities, Inuyasha wasn't sure that he could outrun his brother if he meant to harm her. The overwhelming need to protect her flew up to the surface as if it hadn't been suppressed by all those years of having nothing left to care about. As he watched his brother push off the ground in her direction, a strangled yell escaped his throat.

"No!" he shouted, using every scrap of adrenaline and force that he could muster to try and beat the demon to his target. He was flying through the air so fast that he could feel the flurry watering his eyes.

_I'm not going to make it! He'll hurt her! _

She saw him coming and fired the arrow, but she failed to notice Sesshoumaru attacking from the side. Inuyasha dodged the arrow, but the simple action lost him a millisecond of precious time. His brother was so close – he could see his claws just centimeters away from ripping out her throat. Just before he could touch her, her eyes lit up with a fiery, blue glow. A bright, almost blinding light erupted from around her body. Sesshoumaru hesitated for just a second, but it was enough.

"Get away from me! SIT!" She shrieked in the loudest, most desperate, and angriest voice he had ever heard her use. There wasn't time to wonder about that though. Before he could even comprehend what she had done, his body was pulled down by invisible hands, and the ground came up to meet him. The blow was so jarring that his vision went dark.

* * *

><p>What had she done?<p>

_I must be in a nightmare…_Midori thought in dismay. _This must be a nightmare…_

But if this was a nightmare, why wasn't she waking up even though she was in pain? The demon that just tried to attack her had somehow fallen to the ground. Originally, she had thought to purify him. The power had been obedient – it rose up to defend its owner at her call. But he was moving so fast! There wasn't enough time to properly channel her energy. All she could do was scream.

And scream she did. Only, she had yet to understand what it was that she had said. The words had come from somewhere deep inside her heart. Perhaps it was the Gods trying to help her. She looked on in mute shock as the necklace around the demon's neck glowed a bright pink. Whatever she had done, he was subdued. From what she could see, he couldn't move. Almost immediately, she thought to bolt, until she finally remembered that there was still _him_. When her eyes met _his_ once again, she realized that she was far from being saved. He was moving towards her – step by step. His progression was slow, but in her mind he might as well have been using his demonic speed.

"Wait…" Midori tried to back away, but her legs suddenly decided to completely fail her. Without warning, her traitorous knees gave out and she fell painfully to the ground. A stab of pain slashed up her entire spine; she barely kept herself from groaning. The demon was still advancing, only now that she was on the ground he looked even more massive and threatening than before. "Why are you doing this? Aren't you Sesshoumaru? Please…" then quieter, "…please help me…" There was no need for him to touch her to silence her completely. Just the feeling of his vile miasma was enough. It didn't have a smell; it was a sensation. It poisoned the air around her – burned her throat, singed her nostrils. By the time he reached her, she was already shuddering. Whatever calm she previously gathered around her to face the other demon was devoured by the pure blackness he radiated.

"I'll help you," he offered in a deadpan tone. Then a smile curved the edge of his lips. It was the most unnerving thing she'd ever seen – even more horrible than the darkest of her visions. He cracked his knuckles. "I'll help make sure you'll wish for death long before I grant it to you."

_Run. _

_Now. _

But, she had no more strength. Her hands fell limply to her sides. Midori felt death coming, and for the first time since she had awakened – clueless and naked – in the grass, she didn't want to fight her fate. Her yukata was still soaked; how fitting that she should die in white. It was an empty color, just like her – empty and without memory or knowledge of why she lived. Her last hope shattered. The mysterious key of fate she dreamed of had turned out to be a monster. The only clue to her past revealed itself to be nothing but a fanciful illusion.

Something hissed through the air. Pain like no other abruptly wrapped its cruel claws around her entire body. This time, there was no suppressing her shriek of agony. The demon shot a bright green whip of acid to snake around her form. It was so hot! She felt it eating through her robe and touching skin. Immediately, she smelled burning flesh and hair. Her mind splintered – her thoughts shattered until all higher thinking disappeared entirely.

_Get it off! Please, get it off! _

She writhed and kicked, trying to separate herself from the indescribable agony, but nothing that she did freed her. If she could have pieced together some form of thought, she would have begged whatever Gods would listen to relieve her of the torture. As it was, she couldn't remember having ever known a single word. There was only the burning now – the feeling of her skin peeling from her bones. Time, reality, fantasy, and dreams all smeared together into a nauseating spiral.

Something snapped.

At first, she thought that bile was rising in her throat to accommodate her need to vomit.

It was something else.

A force.

A heat.

A desire.

A power!

She stopped struggling.

Her vision returned and she looked at the demon with eyes that were not her own. The bastard was smiling – he was enjoying every moment of her torment.

_Not for long_, a voice inside her warned.

When she moved to stand, the whip tightened around her.

This time, she didn't make a sound.

The energy inside her was still rising, like water filling an empty vessel. Any moment now, it would reach the edge and spill over. Any moment now.

"Well? Beg for death…grovel at my feet as you were meant to do…"

_Not for long_, that foreign voice repeated.

This time, she stood despite the whip's suffocating hold.

"You will unhand me, foul abomination," she hissed. Her voice seemed to echo through the clearing. The air thrummed with electricity.

"Only in death…" was his reply.

"Unhand me," she repeated, louder this time.

"Only in death," Sesshoumaru countered, louder this time. Small sparks of white light began to surround her until the acidic whip around her body began to melt away.

"**UNHAND ME!**"

There was a loud explosion. Midori watched everything happen from a distance, as though her body was no longer her own. The feeling was the same one she felt often when she experienced a vision. She saw the demon's whip completely melt before a wall of dust and rubble covered up his image. The wall throbbed and twisted like a living being until it finally vanished into nothingness. In the wake of everything, the demon was left crouching on the ground. Undaunted, he sprang lithely to his feet, gathered more miasma, and became a blur as he bolted towards her.

"**RESTRAIN!**" the voice commanded.

Midori gasped. The demon halted in mid-flight. It looked as though he'd hit a wall. Only instead of recovering as she expected, he stood stock still. His face was no longer impassive. He looked confused, then furious. Although he didn't move an inch, it was obvious that he was struggling to be free of whatever spell was holding him in place. Her eyes wandered, unbidden, to the place where the second demon still lay. He was groaning. The ears on his head twitched, and he tried to pick up his dust-covered body off the ground. He didn't get a chance.

"**SIT!**"

With a resounding _bang_ he was thrown back down and lay still once more.

The glow around her body subsided. The only evidence that it had ever been there was a spot on her chest that was still shining. It almost looked like a tattoo and rested right at the top of her sternum. She felt herself being pulled back into consciousness, and right before she re-entered her awareness, she saw that the spot was shaped like an upside-down crescent moon.

_What just happened? _she asked herself in bewilderment. _What have I done?_

_**You now have what you've been searching for. Do not squander what you have been given.**_

She twisted around so fast that her ankle throbbed in protest. This was the perfect opportunity to run away. By some miracle, both demons were immobilized. She was ready to throw everything she had into a sprint, but a voice stopped her.

"Don't go." The demon with the beads around his neck was digging his claws into the ground in an obvious effort to move. After a brief struggle, his eyes met hers. They burned with an unrecognizable emotion.

"Please don't go…Kagome."


	6. The Test

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed the story so far!

I'm happy to read each message and feel that you guys are enjoying the story.

I wanted to bring your attention to the fact that I have upped the rating from M to MA.

I feel that this new rating will best cover the material that is coming up in future chapters of this piece.

Thank you for understanding!

* * *

><p>Limerance<p>

Chapter 5 – The Test

* * *

><p>"Please don't go, Kagome…"<p>

Inuyasha's plea hung in the air for a few moments before Midori registered that he was addressing _her_. She frowned.

"Kagome?" She tested out the name. There was something nostalgic about it. Her heart fluttered excitedly. Briefly, she considered moving closer to him, almost as though she thought that by being closer, she would understand what he meant. "Is that…my name?" she inquired, her eyes wide with wonder. "Do you know me?"

Inuyasha looked shell-shocked. "What are you talking about? Don't you remember me, Kagome?"

_Kagome_…

_Kagome…_

She couldn't deny that the name sent waves of familiarity through her mind.

_You came for me, Inuyasha…_ a voice from long ago whispered in her thoughts. She didn't know it, or where it came from, but her heart told her that she'd known this demon in the past.

"Inu…yasha?" Just like with her own name, she tried to say his. It was sweet and redolent. Her lips formed the word so easily, as though they were used to the feel and texture of it. Just like with Sesshoumaru's name, she knew without a doubt that she had known it before. At her calling, the demon looked hopeful and renewed his efforts of trying to free himself from her incantation.

"Let me up, Kagome, so I can help you!"

How could she, when she didn't even know what she had done to restrain him in the first place? She started to think of ways to free him when Sesshoumaru's anger hit her like a hurricane. She turned to see him also struggling to be free. Although he didn't display any outward agitation, she could feel that he was livid. Whatever spell she'd been under was broken. Almost immediately, her eyes went cold.

She suddenly recalled how Akiko had warned her about demons and their trickery. They knew about the darkness in people's hearts, and they often used that darkness against them. Just like those stories, the demon was trying to trick her now. That name was probably something it had just made up to fool her. It must have sensed how much she longed for a past and was taking advantage of her wishes. Well, she wasn't about to let him have his way. Tightening her grip on her bow, she steeled her resolve, turned around, and – with one last regretful look at Sesshoumaru – ran.

Inuyasha couldn't believe it. By the looks of things, Kagome didn't remember him. Or simply didn't want to. Just before she left, her eyes had been so cold. He'd never seen an expression like that on her face, even during their most terrible fights. It was like she was rejecting him completely.

"Damn it," he growled. That was impossible. His Kagome would never have done that! He looked sideways at the place where Sesshoumaru was still rooted in place. That was another surprise. How had Kagome managed to restrain him? Inuyasha may not have borne any sort of love or respect for his brother, but he could acknowledge that he was very powerful.

He sneered. "Looks like your plan didn't work, Sesshoumaru!" he called out. As usual, his brother said nothing. "Bet you didn't expect for her to turn on you!" As he fought to free himself from Kagome's spell, Inuyasha continued to bark out insults. If the spell could hold him for_ this_ long, then something drastic must have changed about Kagome. Her power must have grown. Usually, her "sits" only lasted a few minutes. "Not only that, but she pinned you down, too! You've gotten soft!"

"You are not in any position to be saying that, mutt," Sesshoumaru finally replied. Although the half-demon's attempts to get a rise out of him shouldn't have worked, he was distracted by the recent events. Something in the air snapped, along with whatever bonds were holding him in place. His half-brother was still subdued. It was just as well. He had business to settle with the priestess, and he had a feeling that his brother would try to interfere if he could.

"Where are you going, Sesshoumaru?" Inuyasha shouted again, still flailing. "Get back here, you bastard! What are you going to do to her?"

"Whatever is necessary," he said quietly before taking to the air.

* * *

><p>As she re-entered the woods, Midori lamented the loss of her satchel and considered going back for it. However, her instincts told her that doing such a thing would be absolute folly.<p>

_I'm running around nearly naked and completely defenseless!_ She argued with herself.

_I need something to wear or I'm going to freeze to death._

The way she saw it, she had two options – either die from exposure to the elements, or die from exposure to two very angry demons. As it was, Midori harbored a greater fear of the two monsters. Having her flesh and soul shredded and devoured were two things that she would rather have avoided, even if it meant a chance of succumbing to the cold. At least, if she got far enough away from them, she could find a village and seek out assistance. If she risked going back for her satchel, her death was nearly certain.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the pinpricks of wood, dead leaves, and crushed pine cones sticking into the soles of her feet as she made her way through the forest. At least running was keeping her warm – for now. It wouldn't be long before she needed to stop and rest. Fear drove her forward. She looked back over her shoulder every once in a while, expecting to see the two monsters breathing down her neck. Every time she turned, however, there was only silence. By whatever miracle, the spell she'd unconsciously cast on them had to be holding them down – or, at least, giving her enough time to put a solid amount of distance between them. Surely they couldn't follow her trail this far.

When she'd encountered the demons, the sun had been on the way to setting. Now, it was finally night. The moon stole whatever warmth that sun had given freely. It was freezing, and even though her yukata was mostly dry now, Midori still shivered. The wind was relentless; it seemed to seek her out no matter where she hid. Eventually, the shivers grew so strong that she couldn't run any more. She looked around and saw a large rock formation overgrown by tree roots. The hole inside it looked round enough to accommodate her small size and had three solid outcroppings that would shield her from the wind. For now, it looked like the greatest of salvations, and she ran to it with a relieved stride.

Even though she was short and petite, she still had to curl up in a tight ball to fit inside the formation. Her bow was abandoned just outside. Her teeth chattered, and she finally noticed what she'd been able to repress ever since her terrible encounter.

Her injuries.

They hurt terribly.

Silently, she tried to catalogue the many cuts and bruises, trying to plan out what would cause the most problems for her. The bruises were not troublesome; the majority of the cuts could be ignored. Her knees and shoulder were skinned from falling, but it was the burns on her body and lacerations on her feet that would hinder her the most. Her feet throbbed as soon as she relieved them of her weight, making her wonder just how painful it would be to stand up again. The skin there was raw; the wounds desperately needed to be cleaned. Her hair was mussed; some portions of it were much shorter than others. Most of its length had been singed off by the demon's acid; there was no time to mourn the loss. The places where the demon's miasma whip had held her bore horrible burns. The skin was red, torn, and disfigured. There were lines of it in places around her shoulders, hips, and legs. As she leaned back against the rocks, she winced.

_My back too..._

There was nothing she could do about it right now, though. As far as she knew, her healing powers had only ever worked on others. She had never attempted to heal herself before, and even if she could have tried, she was so exhausted that her powers were utterly useless. Midori tried to focus on getting some sleep, for she knew that she couldn't keep going without rest. If she had any hope of surviving and making it to the next village, she needed to sleep and restore what energy she could.

While she slept, the wind gathered in speed and strength. Against all her hopes, the skies turned grey and spewed forth endless torrents of water. Thunder split the air with flashes of white and violet. Midori was so exhausted that she didn't even stir when the rain poured over the rocks and flooded the base of her small cavern. She had succumbed to the pain of her wounds and the drain upon her spiritual powers; not even the crashing sounds of the storm were able to penetrate her solid slumber. So far gone was she, that she didn't even stir when a lightning bolt stabbed the trees surrounding her shelter. The wood, although wet, quickly caught fire.

That was how Sesshoumaru found her.

Although she had covered an impressive amount of distance from the original site of their battle, she was only human and therefore had no chance of evading him. The blood from her injuries left imprints on the foliage. He had easily followed her at a slower pace, giving himself time to think about what would happen when he saw her again.

_Restrain! _

His fists clenched. He couldn't recall the experience without feeling a deep-seated anger. What had happened had to be a fluke. The amount of energy and will it would have taken to hold him like that had to belong to a being of supreme power. Certainly, the pathetic, shivering, and oblivious woman that was collapsed before him was not able to house such a strength. Silently, he watched as the fire from the storm spread, moving closer and closer to the woman's shelter.

It was a fluke.

It had to have been.

_But what if it __wasn't__?_

The prospect of such a thing was unsettling. As he glared at her and approached the rocks, something caught his gaze. It was a small spot of light, glowing brightly on the woman's chest. The material of her clothing had become almost perfectly transparent as it soaked up water, and he easily saw the source of the light. It was a marking shaped like an upside down crescent moon. His chest suddenly felt hot, and – with a nauseating trepidation – he saw that an exact replica of the symbol was glowing in the same spot on his own chest.

His gut churned. As much as he hated to believe it, he had to accept the possibility that the woman had somehow cast a curse or a spell on him. He'd seen plenty of demons cursed by priestesses. Weather the curse hurt them, killed them, or enslaved them, the story always ended badly for the victims. However, more disturbing than the thought of being put into such a position by a human was the thought that humans thought highly enough of themselves to cast such curses in the first place. The times were changing quickly. Where demons had once been feared and respected, now they were treated with disregard and irreverence.

Sesshoumaru frowned. Enchantment, spell, curse – whatever it was, he wanted it gone. Unfortunately, he needed the woman to be alive to make that happen. Annoyed and impatient, he easily pulled her out of the crevice she was hiding in and moved her away from the fire. He looked around – suddenly not sure what to do with her – and tossed her to the ground. Roughly, he prodded her with a foot, wanting to make as little contact as possible. Carrying her was a daunting prospect, as was touching her at all. The mark on her chest made him wary. He wasn't sure what it was capable of, and even though he knew that he could easily overpower her, he didn't want to take any further action before he could completely analyze the risks and benefits of the situation.

"Woman," he said impatiently, still prodding her shoulder with his boot. "Wake up." Lightning flashed, illuminating her face. She looked pale and drawn, almost grey. He could smell burned flesh, blood, and the scent of infection. If she continued as she was, she would most likely die in a day or two. Perhaps that was for the best. The curse would probably be removed with her death anyway.

_**Probably…**_

Somehow, that answer didn't make him feel any better. It fell too far from certainty and rested too close to ambiguity for comfort. He wanted absolute assurance that the curse would be removed. If she died and the curse stayed, there would be no way for him to ever erase the mark. An image of Tenseiga flashed in his mind. He knew that it had the power to revive the dead, but he had never tried to use it for that purpose before. Not to mention, the sword was unreliable. It obeyed him on a whim, and he wasn't willing to risk something important like this to a whim of an inanimate object.

Putting a hand to his forehead, he massaged his temple. The last thing he wanted to do was waste time on this when he had a rebellion to quell. He extended his mane and wrapped it around the woman's body, lifting her up against his side. From this position, he could easily feel the powerful shivers that raked her frame. It must have been the combination of the cold, her weakness, and the growing infection that was causing her to suffer. Fortunately, a few moments spent wrapped in his warm fur helped ease her discomfort. Soon enough, she calmed and relaxed in his hold, her breathing deepening as she fell into a healing slumber.

He wrinkled his nose in response to her scent. Somewhere, he would have to find a place for her to bathe – and soon. Hopefully, she would be awake by the time he found a source of water. If she wasn't, he would settle for simply dumping her in a river or a lake. The experience could be detrimental, but at least the smell would be gone. In the meantime, he would continue his investigation of the current conflict. Staying here and waiting for her to awaken would be a waste of time. He would take her with him until she gave him what he needed. After that, he would decide her fate.

Taking note of the stars and their position, he set off in the general direction of the last known location of the rebel armies.

* * *

><p>"Remember, don't touch the stone! Cut away the seals, but <em>do not<em> touch the stone itself!"

The temple was enormous, but it had been hidden well. It had taken the company of Jade Soldiers nearly a week to find. Even though they had followed Lord Rinnyo's visions exactly, they had still spent too much time wandering around in circles. The time spent, however, had been worth it. The stone was underground right where Lord Rinnyo had predicted it would be, and it was even protected with the same seals that he had seen in his vision. It was only a matter of time now before the power of the stone was in their Lord's possession.

Lord Rinnyo - the leader of the western rebellion - was a man of large stature. He towered over most of the soldiers and looked at least four times as fierce as the most experienced of warriors. Even his own followers feared him and took care never to look him in the eyes when they spoke. Some believed he was part demon, while some swore that he was descended from the Gods themselves. He was certainly cruel enough to prove either legend true. No man under his command felt at ease around him. The only person who was entirely calm in his presence was his highest and most favored general – Hosokawa Hiroto.

Hosokawa was a large and highly-respected family that was spread out over a wide area of the west. They held positions of warlords, nobles, and even vassals in the palace of the Emperor. It was also rumored that they were the center of the darkest intrigues that took place in government and politics. Seeing one of their numbers hold such a high position among the rebellion was unsettling for most of Lord Rinnyo's followers. It was said that where the Hosokawa appeared, demons and darkness usually followed.

Still, that did not stop the majority of the Jade Soldiers from feeling an honest respect for the man. He was an excellent warrior and a brilliant tactician, and he never hesitated to enter the battle with his own men if things became dire. The men he had fought with idolized him; they recounted tales of his bravery and heroism in decisive battles and passed them down to new recruits. Slowly but surely, Hosokawa Hiroto became a small legend of his own. That was precisely why Lord Rinnyo had trusted him with this dangerous and delicate task.

His mission was to seek out the ancient temple that his Lord had envisioned. It was rumored to house a stone of ancient power that would grant their leader the strength of a deity. Truthfully, Hiroto did not care what his reasons were. If his Lord gave him a command, he followed it without question. He was a man of absolute loyalty, and would follow his master to the ends of the earth if need be. In fact, it was this unwavering devotion that had earned him Rinnyo's unconditional faith and trust. As the last doors to the inner temple were breached to reveal the stone, Hiroto smiled. His Lord would be pleased.

"Lord Hiroto!" one of the soldiers called, running over and falling to his knees before him. The general motioned for him to rise. But, even though the man got to his feet, he kept his head down respectfully. "The inner seals are ready to be removed."

Hiroto nodded. "Bring the priestess," he commanded. There was a commotion at the entrance. Four men dragged a young girl inside the temple, leading her towards the stone. Her hands were bound by thick rope, and a chain hung from her neck. She struggled against the soldiers' tight hold on her.

"Please! Please don't make me do this!" Her black hair was disheveled; her garments were rumpled and dirty. She had obviously been restrained while trying to escape. It was a pathetic sight. Hiroto looked around thoughtfully, carefully taking in the way some of the soldiers were looking away. The majority of them obviously pitied her. If something wasn't done, they could begin to doubt their mission. Full of resolve, he signaled for the soldiers to stop and walked to her, tilting up her chin so she could see him.

"You are the priestess Midori, correct?" She hesitated for a moment, but nodded. The action made the tears in her eyes spill over to streak down her cheeks. They made tracks through the light spots of dirt on her skin. "_You_ came to _us_, remember?"

Again, she nodded. "Yes! But I…"

"If you are who you say, then this stone will not harm you. If you are who you say, then you will be gifted with a marvelous power – a power that you will use in the service of Lord Rinnyo to help him reclaim the lands that are his by right."

She shuddered at his cold words and sobbed. "Please! Please listen to me! I…I…" She bit her lip, and Hiroto smiled. It wasn't a smile of cruelty. It wasn't intended to gloat or humiliate. It was devoid of anything – an empty gesture, but an effective one. The girl looked terrified at the finality in that smile.

"You lied, then?"

She looked down. Her bangs fell forward to cover her eyes. Another nod. "I did, but I…"

Hiroto interrupted her, raising his arm to gesture to his soldiers. "Look here, men!" His voice echoed against the high ceiling of the chamber, adding strength and emphasis to his words. All the soldiers stood at immediate attention. "This woman came to our Lord, falsely claiming to be the legendary priestess Midori. She has betrayed Lord Rinnyo's trust and, therefore, has betrayed_ us_ as well. Do not pity her! Do not allow yourselves to feel shame or regret at what happens here today. This charlatan is not worthy of such thoughts. The stone will judge her; the stone will choose her fate!" He pulled her out of the soldier's grip and roughly pushed her towards the artifact, his hand gripping her by the collar of her chain. "If the deity within the stone finds her worthy, she will touch it and not be harmed. But, if the deity finds her sins to be too great, she will suffer the same fate as any other person unworthy of the power!"

The girl was shaking now. She tried to turn around to look at him, but he would not allow it. Finally, she cried. "Please! I did this for my family! Lord Rinnyo promised to take care of my family!"

"Silence, _snake_!" one of the soldiers shouted.

"Touch the stone!" a few others yelled. As Hiroto shoved her farther towards the artifact, her sobs grew in volume. When she was within reach of it, she shook her head, chanting a quiet denial under her breath. Hiroto leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Touch the stone, or I will burn you alive for treason."

The girl cried out in terror, but reached forward and touched the surface of the artifact.

Silence.

For a moment, the girl looked hopeful. She was confused, scared, relieved, and elated all at once. However, just as she began to thank her gods for sparing her life, the air hummed with energy.

There was an explosion.

White light filled the room.

Everyone was knocked back except for Hiroto, who stood his ground by sheer will. As the blinding whiteness faded, he saw the girl's body lying on the floor, her face contorted in fear. Her palms were burned, the skin there raw and blistering. It almost looked like she had touched a living flame. Although her hands had taken the brunt of the damage, the skin all the way up to her elbows was cracked and peeling. The energy had even eaten through her thick sleeves.

_Another failure…_ Hiroto thought with disappointment. Lord Rinnyo would not be pleased. He heard groaning behind him. It took some time, but the soldiers stood up and regained their senses. Hiroto, dressed in his red and black dragon-scale armor, looked – to them – like a god himself. The fact that he hadn't been overwhelmed by the light was not missed by anyone. One by one, each soldier felt a stirring of awe and admiration for the general. If they had any doubts about his strength and leadership, they were all swept away in that moment.

The soldiers who had been holding the girl kneeled.

"My Lord…what do we do now?"

"Failure cannot be tolerated," he replied loud enough for everyone to hear. "Find those who brought the girl to Lord Rinnyo and execute them. Do not allow them the honor of Seppuku; they do not deserve it for disappointing our Lord." He pointed to the girl's body. "Get this _thing_ out of here. Our search continues."


	7. The Search

**Limerance**

**Chapter 6 – The Search**

* * *

><p>"Well, she's not here. I suppose our search continues," Miroku sighed as he walked out of the last hut in the village. Next to him, Sango frowned.<p>

"I can't believe it. I thought we were so close to finding her." She reached over and picked up the Hiraikotsu from where it rested against the wall of the hut. She shouldered it together with her satchel, fastening the straps for security. While she adjusted the length of the leather, Miroku noticed two girls walking by. They carried baskets full of vegetables, and when they saw the monk, they giggled shyly and waved to him.

"Wipe that look off your face, Monk," snarled an angry Inuyasha. "We didn't come here so you could ogle the women."

Miroku smiled and waved him off. "Inuyasha, you mistake my intentions. One of them looked like Lady Kagome for a moment, and I had to be sure it wasn't her."

Inuyasha snorted. "Don't give me your bullshit. How long do you think I've known you, pervert?" Nervously, Miroku stole a glance at his wife. She was leaning down and petting Kirara. Fortunately, it appeared that she missed the brief exchange.

"Anyways, I've had enough of following you. I'm going to go ask around myself."

"But, Inuyasha…" Sango protested, padding over to them with Kirara perched on her shoulder. "We've asked most of the villagers and they haven't heard of Kagome."

"Yeah," Inuyasha scowled. "_Most_ of them." They were interrupted by a childish screech. The sound set them on edge, but they quickly relaxed when they saw a young man chasing after a pair of children. "What about _him_?" Before the couple could reply, Inuyasha set off towards the youth. He stopped him in his tracks by grabbing the back of his haori. The young man started when he saw Inuyasha.

"Release me at once, demon!" he shouted. Inuyasha slowly set him down. "What are you doing in the village? Get out!" His hand traveled to the sword at his hip. Sango put a hand to her forehead. They'd been through this routine at least a hundred times in the past few days. She always worried that Inuyasha's patience would snap and they would have a fight on their hands.

The hostility for demons slowly grew with the spread of the war between the east and west. Sango, Miroku, and Inuyasha saw the destruction that same war caused. As they made their way across the countryside, they encountered several burned down villages. Survivors tried to band together or flee to other settlements, telling others of how demons were at the heart of all the evil that now plagued their lands. Even villages that knew Sango and Miroku by name did not trust their companion. Inuyasha was only a half-demon, but people still looked upon him with suspicion and hostility.

"Oi! Shut up and listen to me, kid." The half-demon fiercely glared at the young man, intimidating him into silence. "We're looking for someone. A girl named Kagome." The man continued to glare daggers at Inuyasha.

"I don't deal with demons," he ground out, turning his eyes to Sango and Miroku. "And _you_! Are you with him? You should be ashamed of yourselves! Associating with demons is dishonorable."

"Takahiro!" came a voice from behind them. A woman appeared at the entrance of the hut the group had just visited. The three looked surprised; they hadn't seen her inside. "These people are guests in our village!"

"But, Mayu, how can you say that?" He pointed at Inuyasha. "He's a demon!"

In response, Inuyasha growled. "Lower that finger before I cut it off," he snapped. Sango hurried to his side and put her hands on his shoulders.

"We're sorry for causing trouble. Actually, we are only passing through."

The woman nodded. "I heard you speaking with our elder. You are a demon slayer and a monk, and yet you travel together with this man. I can only assume that this means he is not a threat." At her words, the young man named Takahiro visibly calmed. His hand remained wrapped around the hilt of his sword, however. "I heard you speaking, but I wasn't clear on the description you gave of your friend. We often pick up survivors and refugees from other villages that have been destroyed by the war. There are many who have been lost. If we can help find your friend, then we will try."

Inuyasha huffed, and Miroku stepped forward. "My lovely lady," he said in a sweet tone. Sango glared at him. "We are looking for a girl with hair the color of a raven's wing and blue eyes. It's not a very common combination of features. In fact, she may look a little foreign."

"Yes," Sango added. "She is also very talkative and sometimes uses strange words and phrases. She's a priestess." Mayu and Takahiro looked at each other thoughtfully. "She also favors the bow as her weapon and is a very skilled marksman." Again, the Takahiro and Mayu shared a look. This time, however, there was a hint of recognition in it. The young man looked sideways, his cheeks turning a light pink. "Is she about my height?" Sango nodded. "Does she have very pale skin?"

"Indeed," Miroku said wistfully, "as white as lilies with lips the color of cherry blossoms." Sango and Inuyasha narrowed their eyes at his suspiciously detailed and poetic description.

"Is she…" Takahiro hesitated. "Is she very beautiful?"

"She's the most beautiful girl you'll ever see," Inuyasha added under his breath. Only Sango heard him, and she repressed a smile.

"Indeed!" Miroku continued. "She is petite and delicate – quite a lovely figure." This time, Sango's hands clenched Inuyasha's haori. She barely stopped herself from going over and giving her lecherous husband a piece of her mind. Takahiro scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"The only woman I know that matches that description is Priestess Midori."

"Midori?" Inuyasha looked frustrated. "Her name should be Kagome." Letting out an irritated sigh, he walked over to the youth, leaned down, and whispered.

"Does she have a scar on…" Sango couldn't make out the rest, but she raised a surprised eyebrow. How could Inuyasha have known about such things? She and Kagome shared a strong bond. Over the years, they became as close as sisters. If her relationship with Inuyasha progressed to a deeper level, Sango was sure that the younger woman would have shared it with her. A look of sadness flitted over her face at the thought of her lost friend.

After a moment, Takahiro's face turned a deep red. He pushed the half-demon away. "How should I know? How can you even ask that?" he babbled, embarrassed.

"Inuyasha, how did you know about that one? Not even _I_ knew!" Miroku protested. The statement was enough to snap whatever patience Sango still possessed. She stalked over to her husband, her face crimson with rage, and pulled her boomerang free of its straps, whacking him over the head.

"You perverted monk!" she raged. "I _knew_ you were up to your old tricks again!"

Miroku, who crumbled to the ground at the first strike, waved his arms in a placating gesture. "Please, wait, Sango. It's not what you think! I saw this before we were married." As usual, his poor choice of wording only served to infuriate his long-suffering wife even further. She hit him again. "You know you're the only woman in my life!" Smack. "I only looked once!" Thwack. "Alright, maybe more than once." Kirara, in her small form, watched her mistress with amusement. Finally, Inuyasha stepped in to stop Sango's thrashing on the hapless monk. He picked Miroku up by the scruff of his robes and set him down on his feet, dragging him close to glower right into his face. His ears flattened to his skull, bangs falling forward to cast an intimidating shadow on his face.

"You spied on Kagome?" The monk gulped and desperately waved his hands in front of him.

"This was a long time ago, Inuyasha, and – "

"Wait a minute," Mayu called out. Having completely forgotten about their audience, the sudden interruption brought the escalating fight between the three former shard hunters to a screeching halt. "I cannot be sure, but Priestess Midori indeed has a similar marking. It isn't a scar, but a birthmark. It _is_ shaped like a star and rests between her shoulder blades." At those words, Inuyasha's eyes lit up with hope and he dumped Miroku to the ground, their feud forgotten.

"Tell us where she is!"

"I would, but the Priestess vanished a little over a week ago."

"Vanished?"

Both Takahiro and Mayu bent their heads, ashamed of their lack of knowledge. "We're not sure what happened, but she suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night. We searched for her, but no one knows where she is. If she had passed through any of those villages, the people would have informed us. Priestess Midori is well known throughout this area."

"Why aren't you looking for her now? Haven't you sent our search parties?" Miroku inquired.

"We are afraid to draw attention to her. Soldiers from the western rebellion marched through here two days ago. They said they also claimed to be searching for Priestess Midori. They ransacked the entire village, and we barely stopped them from taking all of our food and water. We found out that the same is happening to many villages across the western lands. We fear for her. Should she fall into their hands, she will be in terrible danger."

Takahiro clenched his fist. "They are led by a man named General Hiroto Hosokawa. People say he is a demon himself. Priestesses from all over have been taken and never heard from again."

"Please," Sango cut in, "tell us everything."

* * *

><p>"You've returned empty handed," Lord Rinnyo hissed as Hiroto marched into his personal chambers. "I thought I told you not to come back until you carried out my orders."<p>

"Forgive me, My Lord," the younger man said, kneeling submissively. The leader sat in a large, golden chair with feet shaped like griffon claws, while the back curved upwards into the head of a majestic dragon. Hiroto bowed his head and removed his helmet.

"Not only have you failed me, but you have also disobeyed me."

"Forgive me, My Lord."

Rinnyo stood up and walked to Hiroto's prostrate form. "Stand." Hiroto obeyed him without delay. As soon as he was on his feet, Rinnyo pulled back his hand and brought it down across his general's face. The blow forced the warrior's head aside with its force. "You know the punishment for failure, Hiroto."

"Yes, My Lord," the general acknowledged. "You need only command me, and I will take my own life to repent for my mistakes." Even though he spoke of seppuku, Hiroto's face showed no emotion. Suddenly, Rinnyo tilted back his head and laughed – apparently amused by his subordinate's casual attitude towards death – and slapped his hand on the younger man's back.

"No no…you are much too valuable, Hiroto." The leader rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I would question your dedication to our cause if I didn't have such overwhelming proof of your loyalty. You've served me faithfully these past years, after all. As a reward, I will overlook this one mistake."

"My Lord, may I speak freely?" The leader nodded. "What will you do with the priestess once we find her and use her to obtain the stone's power?"

"I have made that clear many times?"

"You have, My Lord – perfectly. However, I find it difficult to believe that things will be so simple. Why must it be _her_? Why does the stone only accept her power?" Rinnyo chuckled.

"Sometimes I forget how clever you are." He strode back over to his chair and sat down. "I suppose I should share this with you, seeing as you _are_ my closest and most competent of servants."

"I am honored, My Lord, that you think so highly of me."

"Once you locate Priestess Midori, I will force her to touch the stone. You see, I came across a bit of interesting information some time ago. The stone holds a piece of a soul – and not just any soul – the soul of the most powerful priestess in the land. Some believe it to be a deity, but that is not the case."

"And Midori can unlock this soul?"

Rinnyo chuckled, an a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Midori _is_ that priestess, Hiroto. Although, I believe that she is a reincarnation of the original soul's owner. This is why the stone will only accept her. It awaits her touch to return her spirit."

"But, if this is the case, how can the someone else wield this power?"

"It _can_ be wielded," Rinnyo exclaimed forcefully. "It _can_ and _will_ be. Once she absorbs the energy, I can control her."

"But _how_?"

"Simple…" The leader raised his hand. A light breeze disturbed his coal-black hair. Hiroto's eyes widened when he saw a blue sphere of energy manifest in his Lord's palm. "I already have one fragment. Once I have the next, it will be easy to manipulate the priestess."

"That is logical," Hiroto confirmed, his eyes troubled. Rinnyo frowned.

"I have never seen that expression on your face before. I can tell that this information displeases you." The sphere dissipated. "Remember, Hiroto, first I will take what I want from the woman. Only after that will I give her to you to carry out your revenge as you see fit."

"I understand."

"You will tell no one of what you have seen and heard here."

"Never, My Lord."

"I cannot threaten you with execution, as your life – apparently – means nothing to you," Rinnyo sneered. "There _is_, however, one thing I can promise you should you disobey my orders. If I find that you have betrayed me, you will never see your wife and child again." Hiroto bowed his head to hide the sudden fear in his eyes. As his Lord's cruel laughter echoed in the spacious throne room, the general clenched his jaw to keep his apprehension at bay.

* * *

><p><em>Midori's visions never showed her clear images. They never gave away too much. But, when they came, she knew that she needed to pay attention, or risk facing drastic consequences. That's why, when she saw herself standing before the stone, she tried to memorize every single detail that her mind gave. <em>

_She stood in an enormous cavern. The place was so large that it could have held a dragon. The walls showed signs of age. Moss crept up the wet surface, while the smell of damp earth and stagnant moisture permeated the air. She looked before her and analyzed the artifact that so resembled the one she and Akiko had found. Runes glowed on the smooth surface of the stone. How odd – as rock and stone aged, the elements left signs of passing time across them. But, this particular stone sported no such markings. She still had no luck in deciphering the language of the carvings. It didn't resemble Japanese, or even the language of the Continent. _

_Something pricked her back. She turned to see at least thirty men behind her. Some looked angry, others looks scared. Five of them were smiling as they poked her with their spears, forcing her to move forward until she was nearly pressed flush against the artifact. Their mouths moved in unison, and – although no voices came out – she knew that they were screaming for her to touch the stone. Her soul shouted protests; she clearly remembered how Akiko had died after she had touched a similar object. She tried to resist, but the spears dug painfully into her skin. _

_Suddenly, the crowd parted. From its center, a man emerged. His shoulder-length, fiery red hair moved fluidly with his gait. On his body, he wore red and black armor chiseled into the shape of dragon scales. Under his arm, he held a helmet decorated with the blazing eyes of a roaring dragon, and yet, his own eyes sent chills down her spine, cutting to the quick with their emerald intensity. Wanting to get away from those eyes, she backed up, only to feel an unnerving heat emanating from the stone. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't look away from him. When he was close enough, he reached out and grasped something below her chin – it was a chain. _

_Now that she had noticed it, she also saw that her hands were bound. Cold, metallic, cuffs chafed the skin around her wrists and ankles, while a large collar made it difficult to breathe. He yanked on the chain unceremoniously, and she had no choice but to stumble forward. Although she didn't hear what he said, she could feel the force of his thoughts inside her mind._

"_Touch the stone, Midori, or I will burn your child alive." _

* * *

><p>If Midori hadn't awakened at that moment, she would have drowned. When she opened her eyes to see a blue expanse of water, she nearly gasped. Only quick instinct saved her. She was submerged in a lake.<p>

Moving proved too difficult; her joints hurt, and she felt stiff as a board. Her weight dragged her to the bottom, and her landing kicked up a cloud of sediment. Slimy silt wormed between her fingers; her torn yukata floated up to entangle her. In a moment of sheer panic, she began to struggle against the water, trying to swim to the surface. Her arms streaked through the water, expertly pulling her upwards. The surface was in sight. All she needed to do was swim forward as fast as possible.

That's when she realized something crucial.

She didn't know _how_ to swim.

Confused, she stopped and looked at her unsteady hands which had – just a moment ago – been dragging her upwards with movements they'd never practiced before. Her confidence drained from her mind, along with any knowledge of how to maneuver through the water.

_How did I know to do that? _

No matter. She couldn't do it now.

Frantic, she flailed her arms and legs erratically. Her chest was being crushed; her lungs were screaming with the need for air. She tried to call for help, mindless with terror, letting out the rest of the oxygen in her lungs in a gurgle. As she sank farther into darkness, she realized how useless that would be.

_She_ didn't even know how she'd ended up underwater.

No one would come.

No one knew where she was.

No one would come.

She would drown.


	8. The Reuinion

**Limerance**

**Chapter 7 – Reunion**

* * *

><p>Just as Goro predicted, it was a terrible day for fishing. Hachiro had almost caught something twice, but lost both fish on account of his shoulders hurting. Sitting on the ground all day tried his patience and burdened his back. The sun shone down – hot and stifling – on the lake. The rays of light felt suffocating, and Hachiro was fairly certain that the skin on his face and back was going to peel for a week.<p>

"I'm too old for this nonsense," he grumbled. Forty-five years was a long span of time. Gray hair, sagging muscles, and a balding head were only a few glaring signs of old age. Both of his parents died at fifty-two. By all accounts, he should be turning into dust soon.

"You always say that Hachiro, but you come here anyway," his friend, Goro, joked.

"Well, who _else_ is going to feed the village?" was the old man's testy retort.

"Careful," another old man who sat with them said. "You're at a delicate age, Hachiro. If you get too excited, your heart will stop." It was Jurou.

Hachiro sneered and turned back to his fishing. "I don't want to hear that from either of you. You're only a year younger than me!" he tossed over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Hachiro truly enjoyed the time he spent with his friends. In their village, they were known as the "trio". Almost from the time they first learned to walk, they were always together – playing, fighting, hunting, and now fishing in their old age.

The laughter of his friends was interrupted by a sudden crash. Something heavy had dropped from the sky into the lake near their place on the bank. Hachiro fell backwards out of his chair. The fishing pole in his hands was sent flying, as was the straw hat on his head. Behind him, Goro cried out in shock while Jurou dropped the basket of supplies in his arms.

"What in the name of kami was that?" he shouted. Ignoring his fallen things, he ran forward to try to get a closer look. The disturbed water moved to and fro as waves wrinkled its previously flat surface.

"It looked like a giant rock!"

"More like a giant pain…" Hachiro grumbled as he stood up from his prone chair. Jurou helped him regain his balance. "Scared all the damn fish." Seeing that his friend survived his tumble with relatively little damage, the man ran over to stand by Goro on the bank.

"A rock couldn't have fallen from the sky," he argued. Both faces lit up with excitement. Hachirou sighed, shaking out the sand from his hat and replacing it on his head.

"Would you two stop fussing? It was probably a dead bird or something."

"It didn't fall too far from here," Goro said, ignoring him completely.

"We could take the boat and try to find it!"

Hachiro signed and straightened his chair. He picked up his fishing pole, fixed the line, and tossed the hook back into the water. Leaving the adventure – however made up it might be – to Goro and Jurou was the right thing to do. Perhaps Jurou's warning about his heart stopping held some truth. The fall had scared him so badly that his heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to sit back and relax, tipping his hat forward over his eyes. Now, if only he could tune out the two idiots on the river bank…

"What if it's a mermaid?" Goro suggested, his hands deftly untying the long rope that anchored their boat to a small tree.

"Don't be stupid. Mermaids don't fall out of the sky." Jurou pushed off the bank and jumped into the boat; it sailed off quickly. Using an oar, Goro rowed towards the place that the object had fallen while his companion folded up the anchoring rope.

"Don't come crawling to me when you've fallen out of that moldy washboard! When that thing turns out to be a Kappa, I'm _not _saving you!" Hachiro yelled from his chair.

"Just go back to your fishing, old man!" Jurou yelled back with a smile. They snickered when the man on the shore shouted a curse in reply.

"What if it _is_ a Kappa?"

"Really, Goro? You're going to believe that old cretin?"

"He's only a year older than us," he protested.

"Physically, maybe. Mentally, we're far younger." Goro smacked his friend playfully with the oar, unintentionally knocking the rope out of his hands.

"Now look what you did!" Again, both men shared a laugh as the rope sank deep into the water.

"What if the Kappa grabs it? We might really be in for it!" the man teased. Their humor was dashed when the boat tipped heavily sideways. The rope, which was still mostly folded inside the boat, started flying out. Something was pulling on it! The men grabbed the rope simultaneously, sharing a frightened look.

"Do you think…?"

"No way…"

Something tugged on the rope again. This time, the men braced their feet against the side and pulled with all their strength. After a few moments, something surfaced with a splash.

"It's a Kappa!" Goro screamed, releasing his section of the rope.

"It's not a Kappa…it's…" Jurou tried to figure out just _what_ it was. Black hair, pale skin, small shoulders– it _looked_ human. The thing coughed and sputtered, gasping as it sucked in huge quantities of air. "It's a girl…" he said, staring dumbly as the thing grabbed the side of the boat and tried to pull itself up. He didn't hesitate in helping her; Goro was still dumbstruck.

"Miss?" Jurou wanted to ask her a thousand questions – mainly, why she'd been flying and what caused her to fall. He was denied, however, when the girl went still.

"I think she fainted," Goro said, still wide-eyed as he held his oar. Jurou knelt down and brushed strands of wet hair away from her face. His heart skipped a beat. The girl was incredibly beautiful. "Not a Kappa," his friend repeated.

"Where do you think she came from?"

"She's a mermaid," Goro whispered, shivering in excitement. "Has to be…I've never seen a girl so pretty."

"Stop spouting nonsense." He roughly yanked the oar out of Goro's hands and pushed him to sit. "Let's get to shore and see what we can do. She looks badly hurt." As they rowed through the water, Hachiro caught sight of them and stood from his chair. He squinted to see what was going on.

"Hey! Did you catch something?" he called out.

"More than we bargained for," Jurou mumbled under his breath.

"We caught a mermaid, Hachiro!"

"I said stop it with that nonsense, Goro! There's no such thing!" As soon as their boat hit the sand, Jurou jumped out and tied it to their customary tree. He turned to see Hachiro walking towards them. As soon as the old man saw the girl in the boat, his eyed grew as wide as twin moons.

"My God…" he stuttered.

"See?" Goro chimed. "I told you! Isn't she beautiful?"

The old man swallowed a thick lump in his throat. Goro might be stupid, but at least he'd gotten one thing right. "She's quite comely," he replied. "But, she's not a mermaid."

"Exactly," Jurou agreed.

"She's a siren! See? She doesn't have a tail. That means, when she wakes up, she'll seduce all of us with her singing." He threw helpless glances between the lake and Goro. "You better throw her back in the water before she drives us all mad." Jurou growled in frustration.

"I can't believe you two. We just saved this poor girl from nearly drowning, and you're telling me to throw her back?" Hachiro nodded. "There's no way. I'm taking her home. My wife can treat her wounds there." He reached down and picked the girl up, surprised that she hardly weighed anything. Goro caught his sleeve.

"Wait Jurou, let _me_ take her home. You know I've been hurting for money lately."

"Money? What does _that_ have to do with helping her?"

"She's a mermaid! She'll be worth a fortune."

"Damn it, Goro, if you say that one more time I'll – "

"I'm telling you she's not a mermaid! She's a siren!"

"Mermaid!"

"Siren!"

Jurou huffed, blowing his black bangs out of his face. "She's just a girl," he insisted. Suddenly, Hachiro grabbed his shoulder.

"If anyone should take her home, it should be me? I can lock her up until we know what to do with her."

"I'm taking her home to get help. One more word from either of you and I'll tell your wives about that night when you both disappeared till morning." Goro and Hachiro immediately went silent, their gazes falling to the floor. Angry with both men's stupidity, Jurou shrugged off his friend's hand and stomped towards the ox they had tethered nearby. The huge animal still awaited the day when the "trio" would catch their ultimate prize – the illusive, gigantic, and probably imaginary, fish of the lake.

_How ironic_, he thought. _We brought that thing to carry our fish home, but we ended up catching something completely different. _

As he began his journey home, he heard his friends whispering.

"Mermaid."

"Siren."

"Senile old cretin."

"Brainless idiot."

* * *

><p>"She's a priestess."<p>

"What did you say, Rika?"

"You heard me the first time," Jurou's wife frowned. "Can't you feel that spiritual power?" When her husband looked confused, she sighed. Expecting him to understand was pointless. Rika could sense spiritual energy from birth. For a long time, her family expected her to become a priestess, but finding someone to train her proved impossible. After a time, she met Jurou, and they fell hopelessly in love. Years passed, but – although her calling was forgotten – her senses never dulled. "You said she fell out of the sky?" He nodded. "Have you considered that she may have been fighting with a demon?" A beat.

"How can you tell?"

"These injuries aren't normal." Without hesitating, she pulled aside the covers to point to the girl's bandages. Although his wife had dressed her in some spare clothes, he was still embarrassed, and he looked down. Ignorant to his discomfort, the woman continued her explanation. "These wounds had to be inflicted with some sort of acid. And _these_ look like claw marks. It's a demon; I'm sure of it."

"A demon…you don't think it's still looking for her, do you?"

"How should _I_ know that, husband? _You're_ the one that brought her here." Jurou felt a trickle of fear. Although his wife insisted that he _should_ know, he really had no clue. If the demon was still after the girl, then he had endangered the entire village by bringing her here.

"She looks like she's been through something terrible." Rika looked up at him, pushing aside his doubts with the sincerity in her eyes. "We _have_ to help her. There aren't many priestesses left in these parts because of that damn western rebellion. They're hunted like animals. Somehow, if I can help just one…"

Her husband put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll help her, Rika. You're the best healer I know. We're a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. I doubt soldiers would come looking for a priestess here." She smiled, and he mimicked the action, glad to have such a wonderful and honest woman as his wife. At that moment, the girl stirred. Rika padded over to her, folding her kimono under her knees as she sat down next to the futon. The priestess tried to sit up, but Rika gently pushed her back down.

"Where am I?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"You're safe, child. Don't move around too much. You've got to give your injuries time to mend."

"Injuries?" She opened her eyes, and Jurou felt his breath catch. He'd never seen such a beautiful blue color before. His wife seemed to think the same; she tossed him a surprised glance over her shoulder. "How did I get here?" Her hand went up to rub her temple, fingers nursing an obvious headache.

"You fell into a lake," Jurou stated simply. He walked over to her and sat down next to his wife. "Who _are_ you? Why did you fall from the sky? Where did you get your injuries?" At his questioning, Rika grew irritated. She pushed him away and smiled apologetically.

"Please forgive my husband. Naturally, you shouldn't push yourself to answer all of his questions. In fact, you should – "

"Kagome," the girl whispered. "My name is Kagome." To the old couple, she looked almost bewildered. Her eyes were wide, as though she, herself, was surprised at the words she uttered. "How did I get here?" She looked around the dwelling. "Where is Inuyasha?"

"Inuyasha?" Rika looked puzzled. "Is that your companion's name? Were you with him when this happened to you?"

The girl shook her head and groaned. Her fingers dug into her scalp as though she was in pain.

"Are you alright?" Jurou asked, concerned.

"You should rest," his wife added. "You've been through a terrible ordeal."

"No." The priestess looked up, her eyes focusing on the older woman. Rika felt frozen by the determination in that gaze. "I'm Midori," she said with more confidence. "I am priestess Midori, and I must leave before He comes here looking for me." The words struck chords of dread in the old couple's hearts. Were Rika's suspicions proven? Was this priestess fighting some sort of demon? Most importantly, had he brought down that demon's wrath upon his home?

"I don't want to endanger you any more than I already have. You have my sincere gratitude for helping me." Before either of them could protest, she stood on her feet. "Forgive me, but I must ask – do you have a bow? I must leave, but I cannot go out there defenseless. I'm afraid that I can't compensate you for it now, but I will return and do so." She smiled. "On my honor as a priestess."

Seeing that his wife was too overwhelmed to speak, Jurou shifted to sit next to the futon, wrapping an arm around her for support. "Lady Midori," he began, addressing her with the proper honorific that was reserved for her station. "Please tell us what is happening. Who is looking for you?" Countless emotions swirled in her eyes, the dominant one being fear.

"A powerful demon and a cruel monster." Rika flinched and Jurou tightened his embrace. "His name is Sesshoumaru."

* * *

><p>Nothing escaped Sesshoumaru's keen eye.<p>

Although the woman evaded his grasp, he would not let her out of his sight.

His mind poured over the recent events, trying to make sense of everything and find a way out of his current predicament.

Finding the lake had been a stroke of luck. After originally capturing her, he flew for several hours on his youki cloud, trying to ignore the smell of festering illness that emanated from his side. He knew nothing of human anatomy other than the varying degrees of pressure needed to split the flesh and bones. Trying to understand the seriousness of her condition, therefore, delineated the very essence of impossibility. Frustration gnawed at him. He passed over several villages, but ignored them. His thoughts were solely occupied by the dying thing he held.

As a lake came into view, he adjusted his trajectory to fly towards it, juggling his options and their consequences. Throwing her in would solve one problem, but could, potentially, cause others. Continuing to fly with her aimlessly posed other difficulties. He paused high above the water, catching sight of three male humans down below – peasants. Commoners generally helped their own kind, didn't they? Surely three males wouldn't hesitate to help a female in danger. In fact, they might even be able to help her recover.

_More time wasted_… Again, he lamented not being able to just kill her and be done with it.

Suddenly, her eyes opened. He felt a spike in spiritual power. She looked at him, but she was obviously not herself. Sesshoumaru wondered just how dangerous this woman was. What _was _she – the priestess that defeated Naraku, the child that emerged from the Shikon Jewel's pyre, the terrified girl he'd met in the forest? Or was she something else? Ice coupled and danced with flames of hatred in her fierce glare. The intensity of the combination caught him so off guard that she managed to free an arm from his hold and point her hand at him.

"Tainted beast!" she hissed. "How _dare_ you touch me with your vile – "

He cut her off by tightening the grip of his mane, effectively muffling whatever insults she planned to throw his way. She struggled to breathe, and he felt a measure of satisfaction. Anger bubbled to the surface of his thoughts; she made a choking sound.

"How dare _I_ touch _you_?" He was on the verge of crushing her bones, but he didn't care. A red haze clouded the edges of his vision, and even though his voice was cold and aloof, he was full of killing intent. "How _dare _you believe yourself worthy of even _speaking_ to this Great Sesshoumaru? How _dare_ you infect me with the plague of your existence? How _dare_ you even _think _that you can control me?" The words escaped him before he could restrain himself. Sesshoumaru couldn't fathom how this woman grew to be the bane of his existence in such a short span of time. His voice lowered dangerously. "You are an insect, and I will squash you right here, curse or not." Just when he prepared to watch the pressure of his grip crush all of her internal organs, she pointed her hand at him again.

"Restrain!" she managed to whisper through clenched teeth. The mark on his chest burned; his grip on her loosened until she slipped from his grasp to fall towards the water. Sesshoumaru struggled against the invisible bonds of the curse, surprised when they suddenly gave way. He heard her hit the water a split second later and didn't waste any time in flying towards the cover of the nearby trees. His chest felt as though it was still aflame.

Insulted, furious, and full of impotent rage, he watched the three males on the shore rescue the woman that held an uncanny power over him. Contrary to his earlier theory, the spell was not a fluke. If anything, it possessed an accurate and deadly effectiveness. The only reprieve could count on was the fact that the woman was obviously incapable of using it in a conscious state. His spine tingled at the memory of her fiery eyes – eyes overflowing with raw power.

The men argued among themselves for a while until, eventually, one of them loaded her onto his beast of burden and left. As he followed him to his village, Sesshoumaru carefully stayed hidden. He knew that he must tread carefully now. The priestess's rescuer had no ill intentions – in fact, from the odd bits of conversation Sesshoumaru could overhear from his perch, he heard that he wanted to help her. She was taken into one of the dwellings. Human healing skills suffered the handicap of dull wits and limited thinking. In fact, the creatures were so inferior in reasoning and creativity that Sesshoumaru wondered how they'd reached their current level of science, medicine, and crafting. Even if the healer in this village was adept at her art – something that he doubted – the priestess's recovery would still be slow and drawn out.

_I must wait until she is healthy enough to withstand torture if need be_, he reasoned.

But, therein lay the true challenge. From what he had observed so far, that odd trance-like state of hers triggered when she was under extreme emotional or physical stress. If he captured her and attempted to interrogate her, she would use the curse against him again. He needed a more effective means of bending her to his will. Sesshoumaru gritted his teeth in irritation. The answer lay, exposed, before his logic, but he refused to acknowledge it. Yet, he was cornered and he knew it. Perhaps it was time to change tactics and attempt to deal with her as an equal. Even the thought of it turned his stomach with distaste, but…

_I have little choice_.

And so, he waited.

* * *

><p>When the woman emerged from the hut, Sesshoumaru's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.<p>

After days of waiting, his impatience was nearly suffocating.

While she was recovering, he flew off to try to find evidence of recent battles; however, he couldn't focus long enough to accomplish the task at hand. Thoughts of the woman plagued him, casting a pall of distraction over his normally ordered thoughts. He rushed to finish each inspection, concerned that she might disappear while he was gone. Each time he returned to the village, he thought he'd missed her. Only when he sensed her aura emanating from the accursed hut did he feel at ease.

It was infuriating.

Now, as he finally caught sight of her for the first time in two days, his eyes sharply scrutinized her form.

Apparently, she talked the villagers into rearming her with a bow, which she now held comfortably in her hands. She wore men's clothes – ragged, green hakama pants with a white haori. The long sleeves were tucked out of the way by a thin rope. Her hair flowed freely down to her knees in various, singed off lengths – an obvious result of their battle. A quiver clung tightly to her back and a traveler's satchel securely hung from a strap of leather around her torso. White gauze enveloped her skin, contrasting with the shadow of her hair, but together shrouding the worse of her injuries. Sesshoumaru's demonic vision easily pierced such a flimsy veil, however, and he could tell her arms as well as much of her chest and neck sported heavy bandages.

_She appears to be functional_.

"Please wait, Lady Midori!" an old woman called as she ran out of the entrance to the same hut. She bowed her head. "Forgive me, but cutting your beautiful hair…it is something I cannot do."

"I understand," the priestess replied. She turned and placed a gentle hand on the woman's arm. Hair, he recalled, represented spiritual power – a belief shared by demons and humans alike. For demons, hair exemplified their strength, longevity, immortality, and hierarchy. Humans believed their hair somehow linked to their soul. Among both species, hair was a key component to the most powerful of spells and prayers. Priestesses always grew out their hair and considered it sacred.

"I should not have asked you to cut it, Rika. I requested it in a moment of vanity." The old woman looked up.

"If you would accept it, I have something you could use to tie it back." When the priestess nodded, the woman presented her with an object that Sesshoumaru couldn't make out. Gathering her hair up in her palms, she quickly and efficiently pinned it up in place high above her head with the thoughtful gift. Some short strands slipped loose from their bindings, falling forward frame her cheeks and neck. "You are so lovely, My Lady." Reaching into her own satchel, the old woman pulled out a small container. "Also, please take this. Apply it every time you change the dressings. It is a special salve that I made. The herbs will dull the pain and help prevent infection. Your wounds are deep, but this should help lessen the scarring."

"I don't mind scars," the priestess countered. "Any wounds that I bear in my struggle against the impurities in this world will be offered up in tribute to the Gods." She smiled, her eyes gentle. "Nevertheless, I will be eternally grateful for everything you've done for me." By this time, several other villagers gathered around the two women. Sesshoumaru thought he recognized two of them as the men that saved her from the lake, but he couldn't be sure. All humans looked alike in his eyes, a mottled horde of vermin indistinguishable from one another.

_Except for her_, intruded into his ungracious thoughts.

"My Lady, I'm sorry about earlier. I really did think you were a mermaid," one man revealed. He looked sideways at the human next to him. "I'm so glad we didn't take your advice and throw her ba –" The second one clapped a hand over his mouth.

She laughed in response.

"And I truly thought you were a siren," the second man added, still holding his hand over his friend's face. "I've just never seen a woman so – " A third man stepped on his foot with his heel; he winced in pain and went silent.

The priestess continued to smile. He'd never seen such a look on her face – gentleness, patience, and affection. Such things suited her features more than the venom she usually directed his way. Secretly, he felt a pinprick of jealousy at the observation. Fortunately for his sanity, his conscious mind wrote off the feeling as annoyance that one such as the priestess failed to show him the respect one such as he deserved.

"Rika and I are both glad you stayed a little while longer, Lady Midori. Please be careful. Those soldiers are everywhere."

"I will. There are things I must do, so I cannot afford to be caught now."

"Which direction will you take, My Lady? They say that a fierce general patrols the lands west of here."

"Despite that, I must go that way. My heart tells me that which I seek is there." She frowned. "Some people from my village may come looking for me. I left them some time ago in secrecy, for the journey I must make must be made alone. I ask you not to tell them where I've gone."

"But, My Lady, surely you cannot mean to travel into the chaos of the warzone on your own," the old woman protested.

"Rika, don't second-guess the priestess like that," the man next to her admonished.

"It's alright, Jurou." The priestess bowed her head respectfully. "I'm touched that you all care so much about my safety. If my journey is successful, I will return to bless all of you again and compensate for all the kindness you've shown me." At a sudden thought, the priestess's face quickly sobered, her eyes scanning the tree line. After a moment, she looked away. "I must go now," she continued, her beneficent smile returning. "I don't wish to endanger your home any longer." Despite the protests of several villagers – chiefly the three foolish old men - she said her farewells and set off towards the edge of the forest.

As soon as she was out of the sight of the others, her smile faded only to be replaced by a look of solemn determination. Eyes fixed forward, she set her jaw into a grim line and pressed forth into the unknown. Sesshoumaru followed in complete silence. He decided that revealing his presence would be unwise now. She walked forward with confidence and grace, almost as if she feared nothing. One of her small hands rested against her side.

_Pain from her injuries?_

Or was it a ruse to make him think she was weakened? Somehow, he doubted that her inferior, human brain was capable of planning such deceit. Besides, the possibility of her sensing his presence did not sit well with him. He did not wish to dwell on the chance that her powers were so developed.

That a miserable human priestess such as herself laid a binding curse upon him bode ill by itself.

Impressively for such severe injuries, she walked until she reached the other end of the forest, stopping to make camp near a riverbank only when the darkness grew too thick for her flawed eyes to see through. He watched her patiently make a fire and cook various edibles she gathered along the way. From his observations over the centuries, humans generally traveled in packs. He supposed they did so because they were incapable of surviving on their own. To see her traveling alone and being self-sufficient forced him reevaluate all those assumptions.

Curious now, he watched her grind some herbs into a paste and combine it with the salve the old woman gave her in the village. The new mixture had a more pungent odor. She returned it to the large satchel, digging around until she pulled out a folded object. A bed roll – he realized. The thing looked far from comfortable, but the woman patted it with an expression of nostalgic contentment. Expecting her to fall asleep, he was surprised when she picked up her weapon, walked to the riverbank and began to undress instead.

With a rustle, pants, sash, and haori fell to the floor, leaving her covered in a thin, white yukata. She laid her bow and quiver on the edge of the bank – for protection – and proceeded to divest herself of that garment as well. Soon, her bare skin was exposed entirely to the night. Reaching up, she removed the tie from her hair, letting the raven black locks tumble down her narrow shoulders.

Demons did not feel cold; their blood was too volatile and restless. Thus, the ambient temperature never fazed him. But, when he saw goose bumps creep across her shivering skin as she entered the frigid water, he could not help but to commend her resolve to bathe despite the conditions of the weather. Humans really were too fragile.

Once in the water, she removed her bandages one by one, biting her lip when the water crept up to lap gently at her injuries. Some of the gauze stuck to her burns. She whimpered in pain when she quickly ripped it away, reopening parts of the raw wounds and peeling away newly healed skin. When she was completely bare, his eyes traveled over the many markings and disfigurations on her body. His acid and claws had done their job well. It was no wonder he'd scented death and sickness on her the night he'd found her in the rain.

Taking a deep breath, she bent her knees and submerged herself in the water entirely, coming back up a moment later. She shook her head and wiped the moisture from her eyes, lifting her arms to move wet hair away from her face. As she did so, she turned around, giving him a clear view of her front. The tendrils of moonlight that crept through the foliage illuminated her form. Her chin was tilted back, his eyes catching the movement and slipping lower unwittingly to her breasts. They looked full and pliant, the centers puckered from the freezing water. But, his gaze didn't stop there; it traveled past her chest and slid down to her flat stomach and the flare of her hips, stopping only when it reached the edge of the water. Just when he grew frustrated that he was denied seeing the rest of her, she stepped out of the river.

Then something happened that he could never have imagined.

He felt a stab of pure, unchecked, and _**raw**_ desire pool in his groin.

As though hypnotized, Sesshoumaru stepped away from his hiding place and strode towards her. Her back faced him now, so she failed to notice his progress. He stopped just short of touching her, and when she lowered her arms to her sides, he somehow knew that she had sensed him all along. Leaning down, he inhaled her fresh, clean scent. The fragrance seemed to heighten his senses, leaving every nerve ending in his body tingling with anticipation. Fighting for control, he raised his hands in to wrap them around her neck to strangle her, only to lower them to cup her shoulders instead. She didn't move – didn't breathe. Careful not to blemish her porcelain skin, his claws traveled down her arms and moved around to the sides of her breasts, stopping just a hair's breadth from caressing their peaks. This time, she shivered.

"Have you not had enough, Sesshoumaru? You taint the purity of this world with your very presence, and now you seek to desecrate my body as well?" The bold words masked her true emotions. Her voice was strained; she was afraid.

"If anyone has tainted anything, it is you." She turned around, grazing her arm on his claws in the process. Those eyes fixated on his once again, stealing his rationale as always. Sesshoumaru hesitated, but – in the end – couldn't resist saying her name. "_You_ have tainted me, Kagome."

"That is not my name, beast. My name is Midori." Something flickered in her eyes – doubt perhaps.

"Kagome…" he repeated with more force, ghosting his claws gently down her back. She bit her lip to suppress a moan.

"What do you want from me, demon?"

An impossible question.

"You will remove this spell from me," he replied, tracing the mark of the moon on her chest. With some fascination, he watched her nipple harden in response.

"I don't know how," she whispered breathlessly.

"That is of no significance to me. You will remove it." His claw finally touched the center of her breast, and her back arched as fought the desire for more. Somehow, seeing her at his mercy pleased him and overrode the part of him that protested the outrage of his need to touch her.

"I don't know how," she repeated helplessly.

"Then you will stay with me until you do," he heard himself say.

"I'll die first," she bit out, her aura flaring dangerously.

"No," Sesshoumaru argued, continuing to torment her with his thumb, circling close in lazy arcs, but avoiding brushing up against her straining peak. "You will die only if you try to use the spell against me." His gentle touch belied the thick anger behind his words. "I will carve punishment into your skin until your life bleeds from you. Then, I will revive you with my power and repeat the process over and over again until your screams of pain cease to entertain me." Her eyes went huge in her pale face. She could not have known that he was bluffing – she could not have known that his own sword still rebelled against him. The situation was precarious. Her cheeks were flushed, small puffs of steam rising from her lips with every one of her breaths. How he yearned to catch each one of her gasps of pleasure with his own lips – how he craved to wring cries of ecstasy from her with his fingers and his tongue. It would be true humiliation for her – for a priestess to feel arousal in a demon's embrace. He reveled in the thought, just as he knew that he would never allow it to come to pass. Carrying out this particular desire would shame him in the eyes of his own unyielding standards.

"Get dressed," he commanded gruffly. "You claim to be a priestess, yet you stand before a man without a hint of modesty." He stepped away from her. If he had ever performed a task more difficult, he could not recall it.

"You are not a _man_. You are a _monster_," she growled, nevertheless covering herself with her arms. Despite her defiant words, she dashed towards her clothes on the riverbank and hurried to pull them on. As the distance grew between them, he felt a hollow ache in a part of himself he did not recognize.

A part that feared her, despised her, and needed her like nothing else.

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>


	9. Trust

**Limerance**

**Chapter 8 - Trust**

**-O-O-**

* * *

><p>Staying with Sesshoumaru.<p>

What, exactly, did that entail?

They'd been traveling for nearly a week along the rolling hills of the countryside, and he had yet to say a word to her. Memories of his touch and his cruelty lingered in the forefront of her mind, causing her to wrap her arms around herself every so often as they surfaced from the deep pool of her heavy thoughts. Despite her reluctance, she acquiesced to his demands. She followed him obediently – for now. Midori was far from a coward, but there were things that she needed to accomplish. Setting out from the only home she remembered had taken more courage than she could have imagined, and wasting that courage now by recklessly giving up her life would be an insult to all those she left behind. After all, she left not just for her own sake, but for the sake of the people in that home.

There were a hundred things she needed to do. None of them entailed following a stoic, arrogant, murdering demon around the country. The legendary stones were now the only clues to her past and the only hope to stop the spread of the evil Akiko fought against. If she could only get away from this man, she could continue her quest to find them and to find her memories.

Over time, they passed many ruined villages and burned fields. The sights only hardened her resolve. The western rebellion was obviously spreading; the war was escalating. Crows seemed to be everywhere, feasting on wreckage left behind the marching darkness. Despite the obvious horror of it all, Sesshoumaru said nothing. The pandemonium did not concern him, it seemed, leaving the priestess to wonder just what his goals were in restlessly traveling the lands. Demons were a conniving sort – tricksters and manipulators. They planned; they schemed; they had their own agendas. But, in the end, they were simple creatures. Akiko always drilled that into her during training.

Yet, the way this one held himself – the way he walked, with confidence and purpose – made her wonder if Akiko's words lacked certain truth. This demon looked more than capable of complex reasoning. He was obviously dignified and educated, and all past experiences proved that he was cunning and intelligent above all. Not a hair was out of place. Even at her finest, she felt certain that she would look plain and boring next to him. So, what was he planning?

"You could at least inform me of where we're headed," Midori complained, struggling a little to catch her breath. Their pace was quick and efficient. They only rested once a day, when it was darkest. She theorized that the man had to be made of stone. Only that could explain his lack of emotion and sociability – even his lack of a need for sleep and rest. Despite knowing that her questions would remain unanswered, she spoke to him anyway. He just kept walking, completely indifferent to her. Her conversations may as well have been flies buzzing around his ears for all the attention he paid them.

"If you think that I will simply continue to follow you like a docile sheep, then you're sorely mistaken," she tried for the thousandth time. The words were pebbles that bounced off his armor. He stayed silent. With each mile they covered, her irritation grew. Not one to give up, she began to list a thousand reasons why staying with him bothered her. One of her infamous headaches was coming on, and with every moment passed, she imagined new ways of insulting him to get his attention.

Finally, he spoke –

"You would travel this place alone knowing the hazards of it?" he queried, surprising her. Those were the first words he'd spoken to her since they set out. He phrased the statement as a question, but the tone he used suggested that he already knew the answer.

_Arrogance at its finest_, she thought.

"I would," she replied defiantly. "It's not as though you would protect me." She glared. "And even if that would be possible, I don't need protection from a _beast_."

Silence.

She seethed.

_He touched me…no, even worse, I __let him__ touch me._

Could she still even call herself a priestess, or had his fingers sullied whatever purity she had? Her skin still tingled sometimes in the places his claws grazed her that night. Hearing his voice again brought up things she greatly wished to forget. The only thought that kept her going and gave her solace was the belief that she could restrain him at any moment. He warned her against doing so, but if the situation called for it, she promised herself that she wouldn't hesitate.

"Why did you bring me with you? I can't break the spell."

"You can."

"I _can't_!" she insisted. "Let me go. I _must_ go." He stopped, turning his head slightly to the side. A golden eye narrowed, focusing on her. Even now, he looked down on her as though some divine hand had placed him on a pedestal above her. The look made her bristle.

"Then remove the spell and get out of my sight."

"I do not know how it was cast nor did I ever guess that I was capable of creating such a bond."

"Not a bond, priestess – a _curse_."

Curse…she knew it as well as he, but somehow the word felt insulting. Only a complete fool would have failed to pick up on how disgusted he was with her.

_The feeling is mutual_, she assured herself.

Squeezing the bow in her hand, she gritted her teeth. "No matter how long I stay here, I won't be able to remove this…_curse_," Midori challenged, spitting out the last word bitterly. He did not reply to that but resumed his pace. She followed helplessly. Again, they settled into a grim silence until Midori thought she would lose her mind unless she spoke. Akiko always told her that she talked too much. At the time, Midori took offense, but she now realized that the old priestess had been right.

"What do you know about this war, Sesshoumaru?" His lack of response didn't faze her this time. "My mentor told me that the leader of the western armies plans to resurrect some sort of terrible power. I don't know what that is, but I have a clue. You see, some time ago…" she continued to tell him about Akiko and her mission to help survivors of the war. She recounted their mutual search for a way to stop the rebellion and even told him about her village. Somehow, the words flowed out without end, relieving a tension she wasn't aware of herself. No matter that he ignored her, no matter that his indifference would have frozen molten lava – he was the first stranger she had ever shared her story with. Somehow, doing so relaxed her. Most of the day went by while she spoke of her life; all the while, Sesshoumaru walked on as if he was deaf to her words. It wasn't until she began to talk about the mysterious stone that took Akiko's life that he showed any sign of interest.

"I don't know why, but it seemed like the thing wanted me to touch it. I should have died with her…" The priestess pressed a hand to her heart. The guilt would always remain. "Akiko said that there were other stones out there, that if we found them we could use their power to stop the rebellion."

"These stones are so powerful?" he asked suddenly. She nodded, somehow pleased to realize that he listened to her.

"Yes, very…unfortunately, I haven't been able to find any information about them. I set out from my village to seek them out, but…" the priestess trailed off, thinking of everything that had happened since she left her home behind. She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed when Sesshoumaru stopped walking. A flash of movement caught her eye, and she blinked her eyes to clear them of her unfocussed stare.

There was a village on the horizon. Dark silhouettes of huts contrasted against the vastness of the setting sun. Trees surrounded the small grove, nestling the town in a kaleidoscope of green grass, white, gurgling rivers, and multi-colored plots of farmland. It should have been a peaceful sight; it should have warmed the heart and calmed the mind, but what Midori saw there gripped both in talons of cold dread.

Men, women, and children alike screamed in terror as soldiers in dark uniforms ransacked their homes and set fire to their crops. Smoke billowed upwards, staining the sky a sinful black. There was shouting, but Midori couldn't make out what was being said.

"Do not move," her companion commanded.

She ignored him and walked closer, Sesshoumaru nearly forgotten in the rising disbelief of what she saw. Men on horses laughed as they chased down and trampled a pair of women while others cut down anyone in their way. Several men cornered an old woman and pulled a baby out of her arms, holding it high above her head as she tried to reach it, tears glistening in her eyes. Her stomach churned.

Those people needed help!

But, fear held her rooted firmly in place. Over the years, she came across plenty of ruined towns and villages, burned and ravaged after battle. She and Sesshoumaru passed plenty of such scenes as well. Seeing the destruction happening right before her eyes, however, differed from that. To see such brutality, heartlessness, cruelty, and disregard for human life openly displayed shocked her to the core.

_I __have_ _to help! _a voice inside her shouted.

Some women grouped together with their children and huddled against one of the few huts that weren't burning. A handful of men stood in front of them, holding up whatever tools they found to use as weapons. Their faces would forever haunt her dreams. There was such despair and anger painted on their features that Midori's heart dropped into her stomach. Their hands shook where they gripped the handles of pitchforks, spades, rakes, and shovels – not a single one held a sword or spear. And why should they? They were farmers – innocents who worked their way through life with honest labor. Swords belonged to those with power – power that should be used to protect, not destroy. Yet, the large group of soldiers that stood threateningly before these men had those intentions plainly written on their faces.

"Please! Spare us!" a woman pleaded. A soldier in the middle raised his spear into the air, a cruel smile on his face.

"Give us your priestess and we will leave this village without any more bloodshed!"

"We have no priestess here!" another woman shouted. The soldier stepped towards her.

"Speaking lies will get you nowhere." As he approached, one of the men shuffled sideways to block his path, raising his rake defensively.

"We have no priestess here!" he insisted. The soldier paused for a moment, then lifted his leg and kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying backwards to hit against the wall of the hut. He slid down and was still.

"We _**know**_ that you do!" He continued his original path towards the woman and roughly grabbed her by her hair, dragging her with him – screaming and kicking – to stand in front of the group of soldiers. "We have it on good authority that there is a priestess living here among you. Turn her over to us. If you believe that there will be mercy or clemency shown here for your disobedience, then you are sorely mistaken." He unsheathed his wakazashi, pressing the edge against the woman's throat.

The blade flashed in the fading light of day. The setting sun emphasized the crimson of the woman's blood as it burst forth and spilled to the ground at the villagers' feet. There was a collective shriek from the huddled women as they desperately hurried to cover their children's eyes. His point made, the soldier threw the now dead woman aside. Even from there, her lifeless eyes bore into Midori's, seeming to beg for help even in death. The priestess's hand clenched around her bow. Setting her jaw, she covered the distance between her and the village in large strides. By the time she was near enough to make out the roaring dragons on the men's uniforms, the soldiers grabbed another woman and a child, clearly planning to repeat their leader's actions.

"It's very simple – all you have to do is tell us where she is and no more blood will be spilled." He gestured, and the soldier holding the child drew his own sword, pulling the little girl's head back by her hair and preparing to slit her throat.

"Show us the priestess!"

Midori's actions were quick and practiced. She drew an arrow from her quiver, notched it, and released it. Just as the soldier raised his blade to deal the final blow, Midori's arrow buried itself in his neck, goring open his flesh. He looked shocked for a moment before falling sideways with a gurgle, dead even before he reached the ground. The little girl shrieked and ran back towards the group of villagers.

"I'm right here!" Midori shouted with all of her might, her voice laced with bitter hatred. She notched another arrow and aimed it at the leader. "Step away from those people or this one goes right into your heart!" The soldiers, seeing their comrade die from such a well-aimed shot, fell back away from their commander. The leader didn't flinch. He smiled, his hand moving his blade closer to his victim's neck. Midori stared him down. "I _assure you_ that this arrow will tear you apart before you finish your slice," she growled. He laughed in response, but released the woman anyway.

"At last we meet, priestess." He straightened to his full height and began to walk toward her. "You will come with us now."

"You will _leave_ now," she retorted, adjusting her aim to his distance. Ignoring her, he kept moving.

"I think not. You see, even if you kill me, you do not have enough arrows to kill all of my men before they capture you."

"We'll see about that," she hissed, letting her arrow fly. The leader's eyes widened momentarily. Unlike with the other soldier, the arrow lit up with a brilliant, pink, light. Just as it was about to pierce the armor at his chest, he dodged it with surprising speed, but not before it burned through the top of his shoulder. It landed harmlessly some distance away, leaving the man kneeling on the ground, steam rising from his flesh.

"Haha," he chucked, his bangs covering his face. "Seems we've got ourselves the real one this time." Without hesitation, Midori aimed another arrow at him. It flew towards his stomach, but – again – he dodged it. Swallowing back a lump in her throat that was born of dread, the priestess aimed yet another arrow, waiting to release it this time. He looked up at her, then, his hair finally revealing his eyes. Adrenaline burst through her veins, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat.

Red eyes – crimson as the woman's blood that soaked the ground.

This thing was a demon.

No longer did he smile as a man. His mouth was twisted, widening to reach his ears. A row of fangs covered in saliva protruded from black gums, a snake-like tongue writhing there.

"That was foolish, girl." He licked his yellowed, cracked, lips. His skin had the consistency of old parchment; it was peeling in some places. Obviously, the body was not his own. "I'll enjoy gutting you," he chuckled. Although inwardly, she was scared, Midori's aim did not waver.

"Come any closer and you're the one who will be gutted, beast!" she yelled with false bravado. The thing's eyes flashed. She saw him jump forward and released her arrow, knowing even then that it was futile. He became a blur of black and red. Her eyes only registered his claws coming towards her before she squeezed them shut, raising her hands in front of her as her last line of defense. If he touched her, she could try to purify him at least - if she was fast enough. Anticipating the impact, she gritted her teeth. Only, there _was_ no impact. Tentatively, she cracked open an eye to see what caused the delay.

Her heart painfully skipped a beat.

Silver hair filled her vision.

Something soft tickled the side of her face – brown fur.

She lowered her hands and looked up.

The sun had almost completely disappeared. The fiery colors of day mixed with gentle blue hues of night to illuminate his regal features. As always, his expression was devoid of any feeling, but the way in which he held the would-be attacker spoke of hidden irritation.

"Sesshoumaru…"

To thank him or to continue hating him – what was the right choice?

Her tormentor had just saved her life. A _demon_ had just saved a _priestess_.

No logic could explain it.

"I…" she began, only to stop when she realized he wasn't even paying attention to her. His focus was on the struggling monster in his grip. He held him high up by his throat, acid dripping from his nails. In response to seeing the green miasma, her burns throbbed in remembrance. Suddenly, recognition lit up the red eyes of her assailant; his struggles ceased.

"Lord Sesshoumaru," he whispered almost reverently. The Daiyoukai threw him to the ground where the demon proceeded to kneel with his head pressed against the dirt. "Forgive me, My Lord! This lowly one did not see you!"

Midori was confused. These two knew each other? She peeked around past the shadow cast by Sesshoumaru's huge stature to look at the villagers. They still huddled together, looking on in horror. The other soldiers seemed to be in a similar state, making Midori wonder if they knew of their leader's true identity.

"Lord Sesshoumaru, please allow this lowly follower to take the priestess. I have orders that I must fulfill."

The silver-haired demon said nothing.

"I am in a binding contract with my Lord Rinnyo of the West, the leader of this army."

"This Sesshoumaru is your only Lord."

"Of course! But, Lord Rinnyo has bound me in an agreement. I cannot escape it, and in order to fulfill it I must have this priestess."

Midori felt her anger return. She fully stepped out from around Sesshoumaru, stopping right in front of the groveling demon. Her companion sent her a warning glare, but she – again – ignored it. "Rinnyo…Is that the man responsible for the massacre of all these villages?" she ground out.

Silence.

"You will answer," Sesshoumaru commanded.

"Yes," the cowering monster replied hesitantly.

"What does he want?" Midori asked with more force. "Why is he looking for priestesses?"

The demon still hesitated, but answered again. "Not just priestesses. A particular one." He looked up and their eyes met, both hers and his simmering with disgust. "One with hair the color of a raven's wing, pale skin, and eyes the color of crystal azure." Taken aback by this new information, Midori gasped.

"Me?" she asked faintly. His expression confirmed it. "This man has been looking for _me _all this time?" The demon pressed his lips together into a mutinous line.

"Answer," Sesshoumaru commanded.

"At first, he only knew the name Midori. But, as we searched more villages, we learned of your appearance through various means." Although he left that line unexplained, Midori could only imagine the horror that his victims endured.

"Why?" Tears stung her eyes. All of the destruction, all of the deaths, all of the lives swept into chaos over the years – all of it was done to find her? The realization stunned her.

"We are to capture you alive and bring you to Lord Rinnyo. That is all I know." Midori swayed on her feet, emotions swirling inside of her like a hurricane.

"You've killed so many people…_so many people_, just to find me?" She knelt down, her bangs falling over her eyes. "What did he send you for?"

"I already said…" he began, but she cut him off, bringing her hand down across his face. The skin there sizzled, burned by her spiritual power. He hissed.

"Lying filth," she bit out in a ragged voice. "_What did he send you for_?"

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" he suddenly shouted. "Surely this bitch is worth nothing to an all-powerful Daiyoukai. Allow me to take her and fulfill my contract."

Silence.

The demon must have taken that as a cue for action, because in the next second, he lunged at her and pinned her to the ground. Her bow flew out of her hand. Claws dug into her upper arms, drilling into her raw burns. She screamed. Sesshoumaru looked on apathetically.

"Thank you, My Lord!" the leader cackled triumphantly. "Now, bitch, you will come with me. Lord Rinnyo will take what he needs from you and give me your flesh as a reward." She struggled desperately, managing to wrestle an arm free to strike the other side of his face. The skin peeled away to reveal something scaly and pale green. In retaliation, he hit her in the same place with enough force to make her head snap sideways. Stars danced before her eyes and the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth. "The taste of pure, virgin, priestesses cannot be compared to anything else." The tears that she'd been holding back slipped down her cheeks as his snakelike tongue slithered against her ear.

"Ses…shoumaru…" she whimpered. "Help…" The demon snickered, lifting her limp body off the ground. He tore the straps of her quiver off and threw her over his shoulder, the sharp edge of his pauldrons digging into her stomach so painfully that she thought she'd vomit. Her ear was ringing where the demon's blow landed; she was so disoriented that she couldn't even move to resist.

"Submissive now, huh?"

As her captor turned around, she finally saw Sesshoumaru's face.

_You were warned…_ He didn't have to speak the words aloud; his posture and his eyes said them for him. Yet, even as the demon took her farther and farther away from him, a small part of her believed that he would help her.

"We'll take you to the sacred stone," the demon gloated. "You'll touch it and Lord Rinnyo will devour your soul. Then," his claws bore into her calf, "I will devour _you_ and take your power for my own."

Although his words should have terrified her, they felt far away. Not even the mention of the stone roused her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Sesshoumaru's – didn't _want _to. Hope was such a foolish thing, after all. It fought until the end, refusing to give up. Midori raised a shaking hand, reaching out to him. Why? Why defend her only to abandon her?

_He's using me for information_, she realized. _He's going to use me as bait!_

The demon finally came to stand next to the rest of his soldiers.

"We have what we came for," he sneered. "Gather the horses." The world tilted. She felt weightless for a split second before pain lanced up her back. Her face pressed into the ground, the impact of her body causing dust and ash to make her cough. Frantically, she tried to crawl away, her head pounding. A heavy, metal-covered foot landed on her back. Reaching down, the demon pulled her into a sitting position and another soldier came over to jerk her arms behind her back and wrap a thick, scratchy rope around her wrists. She glared up at him and he flinched.

"Let me g – " she began, but was interrupted when a piece of wool was wrapped around her mouth. Something moved behind her and her vision went dark. A vile smell – the scent of mold, ash, and soggy cloth – filled her nose. Someone had thrown a sack over her head. Panic combined with a deep, painful, sadness combined into a sword that sliced whatever remained of her hope into a thousand ribbons. He wouldn't come. He wouldn't help her.

"Cowards!" someone shouted from the side. It was a villager.

"She's just a child!" a man accused.

Now unable to see, every movement and every touch felt terrifying. Rough hands pulled her in different directions until she was finally lifted. Again, something dug into her stomach. She smelled leather and realized that she'd been slung over a saddle.

"Keep her hands bound and her mouth closed. The last thing we need is one of you idiots turned to dust," the demon warned. The gag and the hood already made it difficult to breathe, but the saddle digging into her gut made things much more horrible. The smell made her sick; the movements that followed only made it worse.

"Lord Hiroto will be pleased! We've finally found her!" the man riding with her laughed. And so began her torment once again. The horses moved into a brisk walk. Each bounce caused the leather saddle to move against her until the pain became almost unbearable. She tried to pray – tried to take her mind off the pain. As some point, her mind drifted and she knew that she lost consciousness. The memory of _his_ eyes followed her there. Those horrible, cold, heartless eyes.

_You will stay with me..._

Hadn't he said that? Why, then, did he let these monsters take her? She suddenly remembered their earlier conversation – recalled how she'd declared that she was better off without his protection. How foolish she was. Calling him arrogant was hypocrisy, considering her own behavior. One woman against so many soldiers? Looking back on her actions now, she felt she deserved the karma of her current punishment.

_But I couldn't let those people die…I had to do something…_the same voice from before tried to reason. Not her own voice, but a voice that came from somewhere long-forgotten. Her past, perhaps? Had her past self been a kind person – the sort that would sacrifice herself for innocents? If so, then Midori could see why she had died, or at least come close to it. Yet, as bitter as she was about her current situation, she could not regret saving the villagers no matter how hard she tried.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the horse beneath her jumped over a bump in the road. The hard saddle hit against her ribs and Midori cried out, the sound muffled. She began to cry, then, ashamed of showing such weakness but unable to stop herself. Where were these men taking her? What would become of her? The guessing was as terrifying as the unknowing. All around her, the men were laughing. Some took turns betting on what their lord would do to her, naming crude obscenities while others argued over who would get leftovers after their leader was finished with her. She should have been thinking of ways to escape; she should have been trying to free herself. But, all Midori could see before her mind's eye was the empty, uncaring face of Sesshoumaru.

Suddenly, the horse beneath her reared up. The other horses voiced their terror as a powerful wind collided with the party of their riders. Shouting and cries of battle deafened her. She screamed when her horse bucked and she was thrown, once again, to the ground. The side of her head hit something hard. Trapped inside a world of darkness, she struggled to breathe – struggled to ignore the nauseating stench of the sack around her head. Her hands, bound behind her back, were useless. Her strength left her.

_Is this the end?_ She wondered as she lay, shivering, on the ground. Midori heard both men and horses running around madly. Metal clanged against metal – were those the sounds of weapons? She curled in on herself when she heard a horse running in her direction. It nearly crushed her, but jumped over her prone form at the last second, the sound of its hooves just narrowly missing her head causing her to bite her lip. Frantic footsteps came closer to her until something nearly choked her as her haori was pulled backwards. She was pressed up against something hard and cold – armor?

"I don't understand, My Lord! You said I could take her! You said I could have her!"

The other sounds were gone. Another set of footsteps moved in her direction – heavy, steady, confident.

"You said I could have her!" the voice above her whined. "I don't under – " The owner's words became a non-intelligible gurgle.

"In what world…" another voice spoke, "…in what reality did a worm like you imagine that you could touch something that belonged to This Sesshoumaru?"

"But you said…" the other man whispered, fading away.

"Where were you going?"

"Please don't kill me!"

"_Where were you going_?"

"An outpost! An outpost up north!" The demon's grip on her tightened. "I have a map! I can take you there, My Lord! Please, just don't hurt me!"

Midori heard a powerful _whoosh_ above her head. The arms holding her went limp; she heard something fall to the ground and roll with a sickening squelch. Silk rustled against fur; something tugged at the bonds on her hands then on the rope holding the sack on head in place. Dark spots blinded her as the dirty thing was removed and _his_ angelic face came into her line of sight. Relief quickly flooded the vast crater that her dying hope left behind, stealing her breath. Without thinking, she launched herself at him, her cheek colliding with his armor. Midori felt no pain – felt no disgust, or taint, or shame – as she grabbed handfuls of his silk kimono.

_Safe..._

At first, he didn't move, as though her actions surprised him as much as they did her.

Sesshoumaru reflected on the recent events.

Hours passed since the men left the village. The night provided enough cover to tail them at a safe distance from the sky and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Originally, Sesshoumaru's plan entailed following the soldiers until they met up with their commander. He highly doubted that this "Rinnyo" would meet them directly, but he felt confident that some sort of higher ranking officer would be waiting for the party to regroup. Once there, he would kill off the maggots, reclaim the priestess, and interrogate the commander until he had the information he needed.

At least, that _had_ been the plan.

Somewhere along the way, things changed.

He wasn't sure if it was the soldiers' torments, the smell of her blood, or the sight of her body going limp that spurred him into action. All he knew was that he wanted to see those demons' innards covering the ground. Regrettably, the soldiers were too easy to dispatch. Even their leader proved to be a coward without a single drop of loyalty.

He looked down at the girl. Whatever he expected, it was not this. Not gratitude – not after the way he used her. He watched her, tiny and shivering, cling to him with pure and honest fervor, completely unsure of what he should do. Her cries were muffled by the wool still wrapped around her mouth. He used a single claw to slice through the abrasive material.

"Sesshoumaru!" she sobbed as soon as she was free. "You came for me...you came…thank you…thank you…"

Putting a hand under her chin, he made her look at him.

"As I recall, you do not need protection from a _beast_," he murmured, throwing her own words back at her. Her tears shone brightly in the moonlight – her eyes bastions of regret and shame.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry…" She wanted to look away, but he forced her face back to him.

"Do you understand now, Kagome?" She bit her lip and gave a small nod. "Never step away from me again…"

After some time, she calmed, her sobs turning into small hiccups. She lowered her arms, wiping tears away from her eyes and fixing her dirtied clothes. He straightened, sheathing Tokijin. The priestess then looked around, taking in the piles of dead horses, demons, and men. The darkness of the night did nothing to hide the desolate battlefield or its countless atrocities. "You killed them…"

Silence.

"You killed all of them… even the humans…"

"They deserved worse for allying themselves with a man who would oppose me."

"Nobody can judge whether someone else deserves to die – only the Gods. Some were murderers, but not all of those men were bad."

"In this land, I am the only god and the only ruler. There can be no other."

Midori watched him raise his face to the sky, taking in the ethereal image of his regal bearing. There was nothing false about that posture. He believed his words with every fiber of his being, and now – after seeing just a fragment of his power with her own eyes – she was hard pressed to disagree with his claim. Surely, the Gods created him themselves. Only that could explain his perfection.

"Can you stand?" he inquired. She nodded and shakily got to her feet. Her knees wobbled, and she looked away with embarrassment. He reached for her and she flinched, thinking that he would hurt her. Instead, he gently wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her to his side. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson.

"I'm sorry, Sesshoumaru. I've misjudged you." He raised an eyebrow at her confession. "You are not a beast, nor are you a monster." His eyes were unreadable as always. "I'll find some way to undo this," she rested a hand against the mark on her chest. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"It would seem that you can be of use to me in other ways, priestess." It was her turn to look surprised. "They spoke of a stone," he clarified. "Much like the one you described."

"If we can get its power, we can stop them," Midori added, her eyes eager.

"I need no such thing." She waited for him to explain what he meant, but was disappointed. Releasing her arm, he started walking again. She hurried to limp after him, pulling on his sleeve.

"Kagome," she said quickly.

He paused.

"That's…my real name, isn't it?"

Silence.

"It is, isn't it? I didn't want to believe you. I thought you were only tricking me."

She limped closer to him.

"Did we know each other…in the past?"

He nodded.

"How well?"

A beat.

"Brief and insignificant encounters," he said gruffly.

"But you remembered my name," she countered unflinchingly.

Silence.

"Why did you remember it?"

Sesshoumaru wanted to continue to look ahead, but found himself turning until her fathomless eyes captured his soul once again. His claws traced the side of her face, brow furrowing when he saw the quickly-growing bruise on her jaw. In the dim light, the contrast between her pale skin and the dark contusion resembled that of tar upon white silk. After outlining the bruise, his thumb moved to the edge of her lip to wipe away a trail of blood. He recalled how the leader of the demons abused her before capturing her - recalled how he'd barely held his fury in check.

"It does not matter now."

Warmth suffused his chest. Restless, he made to turn away. She grabbed his elbow.

"It does."

Frustrated, Sesshoumaru pulled his arm out of her grip. She wasn't expecting it and toppled sideways; he caught her easily, angry when he felt a rush of concern. The priestess was pressed up against his side, his hand supporting her back as she regained her balance.

"I remembered, too…" she whispered. "Your name – I always remembered."

He nodded. "I know." This time, he made sure she could stand on her own before releasing her. Walking over the headless body of demon leader, Sesshoumaru knelt down and removed his satchel. After giving it a good shake and sifting through the various useless objects within, he found a small scroll with a broken seal. The orders there were simple –

_"Once found, the original must be brought to the Jade Outpost in Hida. No delays. Failure will not be tolerated."_

The signature on the bottom named a General Hosokawa Hiroto who was in charge of the outpost.

_Good – he will most likely have the information I need to find the leader of this pathetic rebellion._

"It doesn't name a specific location," the woman's voice echoed in his ear. While he'd been searching, she hobbled over and tried to read the scroll over his shoulder, using him as support. He expected to feel a surge of aversion to her touch, but nothing came. Irked, he focused his mind back to the task at hand. Although the leader claimed to possess a map of some sort, no such thing was anywhere in sight. Lying maggot...

As his stood his movements worked to subtly steady her. And outsider may not have noticed the uncommonly considerate action, but the priestess did. Sesshoumaru nodded his head in the general direction of the battlefield. Somehow, she knew what he wanted and moved to scavenge what she could to take with her. Holding back her disgust at the prospect of looting the dead, she managed to find a working bow and quiver and even found waterskins and foodstuffs to fill the leader's satchel. As she returned to him, she frowned, her face grey with a sickly palor.

"It could take ages to search all of the province with just this as a clue," the girl reasoned, trying to get the image of the men's mangled flresh out of her mind.

"Hida is a small province – less than a day's flight."

"Flight?"

Focusing on his aura, Sesshoumaru gathered his youki cloud beneath his feet and offered his hand to the priestess. She took it trustingly.

"We will fly. You are too damaged to walk and I have no time to waste waiting for your clumsy, human, legs to heal." The comment made her eyes flash angrily, satisfying his pride. She began to say what would have surely been a testy retort, but stopped when the cloud lifted off. Letting out a shriek of surprise, she threw her arms around his waist again. Her body suffered another jarring blow as she hit his armor. When she suddenly went quiet, he briefly entertained the possibility that she'd hurt herself.

"How is this possible?" she asked breathlessly when they lifted up high above the trees. As they flew towards their destination, he watched a myriad of expressions cross her face. Most of them, he could not identify, but he recognized at least one as excitement. The thrill she experienced was palpable. His mane shielded her from the cold, cutting wind; she relaxed. Was that contentment? He struggled for understanding. They passed a temple with a large courtyard and she gasped, color returning to her cheeks as she mentioned something about visiting it in the past. A lake flew by, and she pulled a hand from the shelter of his fut to point at it. She displayed the same attention and eagerness when they flew over heards of grazing sheep and horses.

He glowered at the sights. To his scrutiny, they look like ordinary parts of the land. What made them special to her?

This girl was so odd - she appeared to experience life in a very different way than he. Everything affected her with such profound strength, that he couldn't help wondering how her heart could bear it.

For the first time in his life, he envied something other than power.

For the first time in his life, he wished that he could feel and know the shallow thing called emotion.

* * *

><p><strong>-O-O-<strong>


	10. Courage

**A/N: I'm back! Went to visit my family, ended up getting sick, then school kept me busy, so I didn't have a chance to update sooner. Now, however, I'm back and kicking! **

**Thank you everyone for your nominations! They mean the world to me. **

**-O-O-**

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><p><strong>Limerence<strong>

**Chapter 9 - Courage**

* * *

><p><strong>-O-O-<strong>

"Please clarify what you mean by 'mermaid', Sir," a frustrated Sango requested. One hand pressed against her temple, attempting to massage away a growing headache. The former Shard Hunters had spent the better half of the day questioning people in this village about Kagome. The only clue they managed to wrest from them came from a couple of old men who insisted that a beautiful priestess had passed through their town several days prior. The two argued over what she looked like, however, making things difficult for the demon hunter, who thought that neither man was in their right mind.

"Don't listen to that old codger! She looked like a siren!" the second man insisted, knocking his friend over the head with a watering pail.

"She definitely looked more like a mermaid!" He gave the other man a shove, his eyes lighting up. "I've never seen a more beautiful girl in my entire life!" Excited, he gestured with his hands. "She had black hair, blue eyes, and white skin." He paused. "She was also…" blushing, he made a shape of an hourglass in the air with his palms, implying that the one he described had a curvy figure.

"Is that so?" came a mischievous voice from behind Sango's ear. "Could you go into more detail about that, Sir?" More than a little irritated, she turned to look at her husband, who sported his customary lecherous grin.

"Why yes! You see, when we pulled her out of the lake, her yukata was torn," the other old man began, his face besotted at the memory. "She had a birthmark – " He nearly bit his tongue when a third man walked up behind him hit him over the head with a rake – not brutally, but hard enough to make his friend wince.

"How disrespectful," he scowled. Stepping in front of both men, he nodded his head to Sango and Miroku. "My name is Jurou. Please, follow me. My wife Rika wishes to speak with you."

Glancing at one another with some confusion, the demon hunter and monk followed their guide to a hut several times larger than the others in the town. To their surprise, Inuyasha already stood there waiting for them next to a short, old, woman.

"What took you so long?" he grumbled. The woman gestured for the three to follow her into her home. Inside, they saw rows of tatami mats laid out in line. Judging from the sacks of herbs, bandages, and teas lining the table on the right side of the room, this was a healer's hut. The woman guided them through a bead curtain to an adjoining meeting room. As they sat down at the table within, she brought them cups of tea.

"We don't have time to fool around, old lady," Inuyasha complained. "Just tell us if you saw Kagome or not." Sango sighed inwardly at his rudeness, praying that the couple wouldn't take offense.

"My name is Rika." She bowed her head. "Before I tell you anything more, please," she sat down, "tell me how you know the priestess."

"We are her friends," Sango explained.

"We traveled together for many years battling demons," Miroku added. His expression suddenly turned grim. "For a time, we thought that she had passed away, but we recently learned that this was not the case. Now, she may be in grave danger. We need to find her."

"You are uncommonly loyal," Rika said, sipping on her own cup of tea. Her eyes reflected suspicion. Sango sensed her wariness. "Would mere traveling companions go so far for each other?"

The bead curtain rustled as Jurou stepped into the room. Apparently, he'd heard every word. "We are under an oath secrecy. Telling just anyone about the priestess's whereabouts would be breaking that promise." He fetched his own cup and sat down with the group.

"We need to know," Sango pleaded. "We have to find her before she runs into serious trouble." The couple shared a thoughtful look. Rika closed her eyes and shook her head.

"The priestess made us promise," she repeated.

"We can't tell _just anyone_ such a thing," her husband concluded.

The table suddenly shook as Inuyasha rose to his feet, nearly toppling the structure with the abrupt movement. He growled, narrowing his eyes. Sango feared for the old couple's safety; the half-demon looked livid. Her hand instinctively traveled in the direction of Hiraikotsu in response. Inuyasha would never harm an innocent, but his mood – or perhaps his sanity – _was_ rather unstable lately. Oblivious to Sango's tension, Inuyasha grabbed the edge of one of his sleeves and jerked it up to his shoulder, revealing a ragged-looking, red bit of cloth tied around his arm.

"Just anyone?" he asked bitterly. "Kagome ain't _just anyone_!" He bared his teeth. Sango tried to make out what was so familiar about the cloth. She'd never seen him wearing it before. A glance at Miroku showed that he, too, appeared confused. Something shifted in her memory – a mental image of Kagome in her school uniform. She suddenly gasped.

"Inuyasha! That's Kagome's neck tie!"

Miroku's eyes widened. "You've had it all these years?" he asked, obviously shocked. Inuyasha's gaze didn't waver from the old woman's. She sipped her tea, put down the cup, and cleared her throat. Her eyes hardened.

"She means that much to you?" Jurou asked.

"She means _everything_ to me," Inuyasha bit out.

"I will tell you, then. May the Gods forgive me for breaking my oath," Rika sighed. "About a week ago, Jurou went out to the lake nearby to catch fish." She signaled for her husband to continue the story.

"My friends and I spent all day at the lake without catching a thing. We were just entertaining the possibility of going home when something fell out of the sky." With animated gestures, he recounted everything that happened that day. "She was terribly injured, but she refused to listen when we asked her to stay and rest."

"Typical," Inuyasha muttered.

"She said she was heading west, but wouldn't give a reason or explanation," Jurou continued.

"West?" Sango asked in a shocked whisper. "But that's where…"

"Soldiers of the rebellion swarm the hills in that direction," Rika intoned gravely. "If she is caught, I fear for her."

"Why go this far for her?" Miroku inquired, his arms folded across his chest. Rika's fingers clenched the hem of her kimono. "Judging from your story, you did not know her for very long at all."

"I've never felt such purity," she admitted. "A few priestesses have passed through here, and I knew many when I first wanted to devote my life to prayer. I've seen spiritual power, but none like that child's. She burned with her own flame." She looked up, her eyes hard. "I can't just let her go. I made a promise, but I can't let her go."

"Neither can I," Inuyasha ground out through a clenched jaw. Everyone turned to look at him. His bangs fell forward to cover his eyes. "I can't let her go."

Rika frowned, a question forming in her mind. "Forgive my bluntness, but who is she to you?"

"Our dearest friend," Miroku replied, but Rika did not turn to him. Instead, her gaze still focused on the hanyou.

"Who is she to _you_?" the old woman repeated, more strongly this time. Finally, Inuyasha's eyes met her own. Her breath was stolen away by the passion there.

"She's my soul mate," he said, his voice low and husky with emotion. "She was born for me, and I for her." He paused. Sango and Miroku looked down sadly. A pall of melancholy fell over the room. Under the table, they joined hands, thinking of Kagome's sacrifice. Out of all of them, Inuyasha's loss was the deepest and most terrifying. They expected him to fall silent as he usually did when he realized that he showed too much emotion, but his next words blew them both away.

"She's my wife," he murmured.

* * *

><p><strong>-O-O-<strong>

Midori felt trepidation snaking through her heart when the outpost finally came into view. Its tents and campfires sprawled out to encompass a larger area than she expected. Soldiers in black covered the landscape – an intimidating sight. There were hundreds of them.

She and Sesshoumaru perched in a large tree overlooking the base. His earlier words turned out to be far from mere boasting. They'd covered the province in just half a day, and although the speed was dizzying, the priestess could not recall a time when she'd enjoyed herself so much.

"Can all demons fly like this?" she'd asked her silent companion. His answering glare told her that he did not appreciate being compared to other demons. She smiled and looked away, marveling at her lack of fear in response to his obvious irritation.

_He did save my life, though…he can't be truly evil…right?_

The priestess rarely would not allow her own faith in others to fool her, however. She needed to keep in mind that the only reason he'd bothered to save her was because of the curse. There could be no other explanation. Yet…her captors never made it to their destination. Their orders specified that she needed to be kept alive. He could have easily followed the soldiers to their encampment, accomplished his goal, and reclaimed her again. But, he chose, instead, to stop them, thus risking losing his only connection to the general and the leader of the rebellion.

The only question she posed to herself was…_why?_

Clearly, her previous self and this demon shared some sort of history, but what kind?

_Brief and insignificant encounters_, he'd said.

Midori stole a look at him, her senses so heightened by the unexpected development between them that she noticed his every breath and movement, no matter how subtle. His fur warmed her skin, his aura an intense, oppressive, and invisible presence that threatened to overwhelm her. Such power – such strength. For her past self to have known such a being – the thought unsettled her.

"There are so many of them," she said quickly, trying desperately to change the direction of her thoughts. Straying from their mutual goal now would not do. Her brow furrowed. The camp was set up to surround a large temple. The soldiers cut away some of the elder trees in the temple gardens to clear a larger path towards the entrance. Their boots trampled carefully nurtured flowers, snuffing out their life with brutal barbarism; their supply carts rolled over sands of beauty and peace, casting the meticulously drawn out patterns into lines of disarray.

_How dare they desecrate such sacred ground? - s_he thought angrily.

Sesshoumaru instantly felt her tension; his fur wrapped more tightly around her, drawing her attention back to him.

"If you interfere this time, priestess…" he left the rest hanging. She shook her head, indicating that she had learned her lesson. Satisfied, he narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the camp. A frontal assault was his most viable option. Nothing below could stand up to him; destroying the outpost would be easy. But how to ascertain that he did not kill the commander?

He watched the activity in the camp slow to a near halt as the soldiers prepared for a period of rest. The fools lowered their weapons, abandoned their tools, and sat down at their cooking fires, completely oblivious to the perils that awaited them. Such relaxation reflected poorly on their General. Leniency and ignorance held prominent placement on a list of qualities that Sesshoumaru held no respect for in anyone, much less a leader. Mentally, he factored the time it would take to flatten this small part of the resistance, decreasing the time on the basis that the man he sought now appeared to be as worthless as the dirt beneath his boots.

The woman gasped and grabbed at his sleeve when he shifted to jump down from the tree. Using his youki cloud as support, he floated down gracefully, setting her firmly on her feet once he touched the ground. Retracting his mane, he swiftly moved away, seeking to avoid prolonged contact. Ever since their experience with the demons in the village, the human showed an unhealthy amount of trust towards him. She did not flinch away from him, spoke to him often, and appeared much more carefree than before.

_Ignorant child…_

He wanted to continue hating her – wanted to look at her from the same perspective that he saw all creatures below him. Unfortunately, he acknowledged that such an outlook failed to apply to her. Human, priestess, curse-layer – which could he use to describe what she meant to him?

Or, was she just a _woman_?

Piqued, he began to make his way towards the camp with a heavy and determined stride.

"We're going to just walk in there?"

Slowly, he turned to look at her, noting her tight grip on her bow. "There is no 'we'. You will remain here." The last thing he needed was a repeat of yesterday.

Midori frowned. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Was he planning to kill all of those men? Images of the massacre he'd left behind before were fresh enough to make her grit her teeth. Certainly, the men gathered in that camp were murderers and heartless savages – they followed a leader who seemed to bask in blood and death. But, they were still _people_, and she was still a priestess. She could not condone death and senseless slaughter, no matter the situation. Only the Gods held the power to judge, and Sesshoumaru was not a God, despite what he believed.

"You'll kill them all, won't you?"

"That is none of your concern."

"It _is_!" she insisted. "There has to be another way."

His eyes strayed to the dark bruise on her jaw. "Have you already forgotten their goals?" She reached up and covered the injury self-consciously with her palm, her lips set in a hard line.

"I haven't, but I can't just stand by and watch you kill so many people."

"_You_ have killed," Sesshoumaru countered. Her hand clenched at her side.

"I have, and it was wrong of me. But, the man was going to murder that innocent child if I hadn't acted."

"Just as the ants in that temple will continue to ravage my lands unless they are squashed," he cut in.

His words gave her pause. "You wish to save the people suffering from the rebellion? Is that why you seek to end this war?"

"Not likely, priestess."

"Then why…?"

He turned away from her, tilting his jaw in a sign of stubborn pride that was becoming too familiar.

"That, _also_, is none of your concern."

She growled in frustration. "There _must_ be another way to stop them!"

"Death is the most effective deterrent," he replied coldly. The words hung between them for a moment. She felt as confused as she did when she first met him. One moment, he made her feel that he stood apart from other cruel-natured demons, yet the next he dashed all of these hopes with chilling words.

An idea was brewing in her mind – one that was dangerous. She wanted to speak her mind, but her lips pressed together rebelliously. Angrily, she chastised herself inwardly for being such a coward. What use were her righteous words if her actions didn't give them backing. Gathering all of her courage, she decided that now was not the time to hesitate.

"_I'll_ go…" Squaring her shoulders, she walked forward until she stood in front of him, blocking his path. "_I'll _go and lure out the leader. I'll reveal who I am, and when they…" she swallowed back a lump of fear, "…when they capture me, you can – "

"I can _what_, priestess? Waste more time on pointlessly safeguarding your life?" They stared each other down for an intense moment, neither willing to back down.

"If we do it this way, we can identify the General faster than wading through corpses," she argued heatedly. Regrettably, Sesshoumaru admitted that the woman had a point. An all-out assault would risk the death of the General, but her approach would guarantee his prominent and swift appearance. His logic demanded instant action, but he hesitated. The priestess could be injured. There was no way of knowing how roughly she would be treated, or what sort of welcome she would receive. A part of him didn't care. But, another – small but significant – part of him protested. He allowed this part of himself a moment to inspect her.

Her clothes were ragged and covered in spots of dry earth. The torn and loose collar of her haori dipped open to reveal torn gauze wrapped around prior injuries. There was a small limp in her step, and strands of hair fell out of her hair tie to rest against her shoulders. Overall, he assessed that she was far too damaged to carry out her proposed endeavor. But, even so, the possible benefits outweighed the risks. He nodded, an almost imperceptible sign of agreement to her request. At the curt gesture, her face lit up, a smile brightening her previously stormy features.

"Thank you," she breathed, obviously relieved.

_What a nuisance_, he thought irritably.

* * *

><p><strong>-O-O-<strong>

"Stop right there!" a soldier in front of her shouted. Midori gritted her teeth, offering up a thousand prayers to the Gods for the courage not to run away. She'd believed that convincing Sesshoumaru to allow this was the most difficult part of her plan. Nothing in her imagination gave her a clue of how terrifying it would be to walk into this place. When the posted guards spotted her, she felt much like a cornered mouse cowering under the eyes of a pack of predators. Three men rushed towards her, and before she completely understood what was happening, their spears were pressed against her throat.

"Who are you, woman?"

She took a deep breath. "I am the priestess Midori, and I have come to see your General." The men looked taken aback. They sputtered for a moment, their flame of aggression snuffed out by her unexpected revelation. "I heard that he is looking for me, so I came to end the plague he's spread across the west."

Silence.

"Well? Are you going to take me to that murderer or just stand there gawking at me?" she pressed, pushing herself to speak even though she wanted nothing more than to lower her head and hope these men didn't harm her.

_Wolves can smell fear,_ Akiko always told her.

One of the soldiers finally regained his composure. "How _dare_ you speak of General Hosokawa that way?" The spears lowered and the speaker lunged forth, grabbing her by the collar of her haori so hard that she was physically lifted off the ground. "Lord Rinnyo and General Hosokawa are Gods in this land!"

"Put her down, Raku!" another man said, putting a heavy hand on her attacker's shoulder.

"Shut up, Kuran. She insulted our general!"

"Our orders are to bring her to him unharmed and untouched – now put her down before you kill her," a third soldier warned. The one named Raku looked ready to disobey, but he finally noticed that his hold on her was cutting off her air supply. Surprised at her frailty and lack of resistance, he let go of her. She stumbled back and coughed, rubbing her throat and sending him a poisonous glare.

A few other soldiers closed in around her. Apparently, her arrival triggered a reaction from the others. The three original guards who approached her were soon swallowed in a small crowd of men.

"Look, it's the real one this time!"

She'd never cursed her small height as much as she did now. As the men pressed in closer, their black uniforms and helmets blotted out the sun and cast a shadow over her form. Midori gritted her teeth and stood still, refusing to show them how much they intimidated her.

"Look at those blue eyes…"

"And that white skin!"

Someone yanked on her hair from behind. Pain radiated in her scalp as she tried to resist.

"Is that her?"

"It has to be! She looks exactly like General Hosokawa described."

"What a pretty little girl," a man in the crowd chuckled lecherously. "Maybe we should have some fun with her before we bring her to the General."

She felt sick.

Rough hands pushed her around between the group. Their touch was as nauseating as that of the demon in the village. She shoved them away from her, trying to keep them from getting close, but it seemed that the more she resisted, the more attention she drew to herself. Other soldiers gathered around. A pair of hands settled on her hips, while another pair tugged at the sash around her waist. Her pillar of resolve shattered into shards of useless clay, falling to the bottom of the pool that was her rationale. When she felt a hand groping at her chest, she screamed.

"Despicable," a voice came from beyond the group. Immediately, the abuse stopped. With a collective gasp, the shadow of the group of soldiers parted like a gaping maw. She saw the sky above her and breathed in raggedly. Taking advantage of the freedom, Midori hurried to readjust her clothes, her eyes moist with tears. "Is this how Jade Soldiers behave?"

A beat.

"Kneel!" the voice demanded. Instantly, looming shadows disappeared, the men all falling to their knees. "You dare to disobey orders?"

"Forgive us, General Ryu!"

Midori lifted herself to her feet and saw the owner of the voice. Lord Ryu, they'd called him. The name was appropriate. The man was as large as a dragon – his shoulders were broad, his stature even more so. His armor was black, like the others', except for a golden beast carved onto his chest plate.

"You've forgotten our supreme law," he continued. "Failure and disobedience will not be tolerated. This priestess belongs to Lord Rinnyo, yet you've laid your hands on her."

"Forgive us," the soldiers pleaded again.

"General Hosokawa will consider your crimes and determine your fate."

"There is no need for consideration. Execute them." Midori nearly jumped out of her skin. She heard footsteps behind her; someone stopped just a hair's breadth away from her back. Her instincts screamed at her to turn around, warning her of danger. But, fear kept her frozen in place. She heard the sound of shifting chainmail; something cold and metallic wrapped around her neck and clicked into place. Almost immediately, she felt drained – as though all of her spiritual energy had been sucked from her soul.

"Execution?" Ryu asked. "Is that absolutely necessary?" He looked uncertain, even in the face of his previous anger.

"Anything and everything that I order is absolutely necessary," the voice behind her replied. Midori bit her lip. Her dream resurfaced from her memories, helping her connect the deep, rumbling, baritone with a face she prayed she'd never see again. There wasn't a need for her to turn around, after all. She knew without seeing him that the man behind her was even taller than Ryu; she knew that his flowing, blood red hair was tied up and reached down past his shoulders; she knew that his eyes were the color of jade.

Large hands forced her to turn around, tilting up her chin to give him a clear look of her features. The man terrified her even more in person. Her vision had been accurate, but – as it always was with such things – hadn't given her all the details. In the darkness of her memories, his face looked almost blurred. Now, she saw features that spoke volumes of the life he lived.

His red and black armor accented the rich color of his hair. In the sunlight, the dragon scales glistened with a white sheen that made it seem as though human blood caked the crafted metal. His face appeared pale as a cadaver, and yet his weathered skin suggested much time spent out in the elements. There were lines around his eyes and mouth; creases marred his forehead. She guessed that he wasn't as old as his appearance suggested, but years of hardship made it difficult to determine his true age. His nose was slightly bent at the bridge between his eyes; it had obviously been broken more than once. A long, thin scar stretched from his right temple to curve against his cheek. True to her vision, his eyes were green. They glittered with dangerous intent.

_He just gave orders to execute those men, but he feels no remorse…_ she thought, surprised. _He's already dismissed them as though they never existed._

"Priestess Midori, I presume." She nodded, reaching up to feel the collar around her neck. In the process, her hand grazed against his thick glove. Knowledge hit her like a bolt of lightning.

General, seasoned warrior, heartless executioner, and brutal adversary – she saw everything that made him who he was, including something sinister and enigmatic that was hidden so far away inside his mind that even her power couldn't reach it. He was as much of a demon on the battlefield as he was away from it. He valued nothing aside from his Lord – the very man that stood at the heart of the rebellion. Lives meant nothing to him in the context of his mission.

_What a terrifying man…to think that a human could be like this…_

"General Hiroto," she whispered, her voice completely lost to her anxiety.

Contrary to her expectation, he didn't flinch at her display of knowledge. Most did, at first. Although it didn't occur often, sometimes Midori could find out things about a person simply by touching them. The power created some tension at first in Akiko's village. At least, until everyone learned to trust her. The fact that this man didn't seem to care or feel surprise made her uneasy.

"Well, well," he began coldly. "It appears that we have the real priestess this time." He tugged on a chain attached to the metal around her throat. "Not even this seal completely suppress your power."

She glared. "What will you do with me?"

"You came here without knowing that?" Taking her silence as confirmation, he tugged on the chain, turned around, and began to march forward, pulling her along. Straining to look back at the doomed soldiers that had harassed her, she nearly tripped. "Come along, priestess. There is much to do."

"You're going to just sentence those men to death?"

"I already have, haven't I?"

"They've done nothing to deserve such a fate," she protested, pulling on the chain above his hand to give herself some slack for movement.

"They disobeyed direct orders and tried to harm you." He paused, sending her an unreadable look. "Shouldn't you be glad that they are to be punished?"

"Then let them be punished, but death is too cruel a reprimand." Her words fell on deaf ears. For a moment, she could draw a line of similarity between this man and Sesshoumaru. Even if either one of them felt inclined to listen, they would never rescind their words or actions – purely out of principle. The folly of it baffled and frustrated her. These were _lives_ they toyed with on a whim, not toys. "Spare them," she pleaded. "The Gods will not forgive you. They will destroy you for callously judging others and playing with fate."

Again, he stopped.

A glimmer of hope.

Would he actually consider her words?

He grabbed her shoulders and forcefully turned her to look at the six men kneeling on the ground, their hands now tied behind their backs. Some were looking hopelessly at the dirt, while the others shared fearful glances. Ryu stood before them, his bare katana clutched in his hand.

Hiroto nodded, and Midori watched with horrified eyes as the first man's head was cleaved from his shoulders. When she would have looked away, the General gripped her jaw with his gloved hand and kept her eyes on the scene. The rough metal of his chainmail gauntlet ground against her cheeks – cold and unyielding, so much like its owner. Tears stung her eyes. Not only was he throwing her beliefs back at her, but he was forcing her to witness his own complete disregard for life, fate, and the Gods themselves.

The second head rolled to the ground.

"Watch closely, priestess. Don't look away, now."

She sobbed when the third man slumped lifelessly to the ground.

"What is the purpose of this?"

"To teach you."

The fourth cut was not as clean as the three prior ones. The head only partially severed, leaving blood to spurt out in a fountain to drench Ryu's armor as the dying soldier's body writhed in place. He cut downwards again and the head finally rolled to join the others. By some stroke of bad luck, it landed facing Midori. The man's tongue hung out and his eyes rolled back, the expression of pain frozen on his face. Her stomach roiled.

"You see those men? _I _have decided their fate. _I_ have sealed it."

"The Gods will – "

"The Gods are _dead_," he growled fiercely.

Another slice.

"_Dead_."

Ryu's katana slashed down and cut off the last man's head.

"You're wrong," she sobbed.

"Am I? Would you like proof?" Before she could give an answer, he tugged at her chain, jerking her head back painfully. His green eyes dominated her vision a split second before he brought his lips down on hers. The world tilted. Reality shifted. The impossibility of what was happening was too much for her mind to grasp. A kiss – he was kissing her. Suddenly, like before, a spark of electricity arched through her. Headlong, she plunged into a vision.

She tried to resist it, but failed to stop the flood of images, feelings, and memories. She saw a woman lying on a futon, her face as pale as the white sheets beneath her. Something familiar about her features called to the priestess, but before Midori could look closer, the image shifted. Night fell over the scene, and she could see nothing but the mysterious woman's flowing, black hair, arranged to lie away from her as was custom for nobility. She whispered something, reaching upwards towards the ceiling. Midori leaned closer, trying to hear the words.

_You didn't come for me…where are you, Hiroto? _

Her hand fell limply to the ground.

She was dead.

Midori snapped back to reality.

The General's lips still pressed against her own. Despite the force he used to hold her in place, his grip wasn't painful. The hand pressed against her jaw was firm, but wouldn't leave a bruise. She watched him – her eyes full of tears. Such sadness radiated from the vision that she felt hollow inside, as though someone was scraping a chisel against her heart. Slowly, he pulled away.

"Who was she? What was that memory?"

"Proof," he replied. She wanted to ask more, her current predicament almost forgotten in the storm of emotion that her new knowledge invoked.

But, she never got the chance.

The air exploded, screaming in silent agony as raw lightning evaporated all moisture from it.

A wall of force pushed her away from the General. She instinctively raised her hands to shield herself, but stopped when she saw what was happening.

Sesshoumaru…

Like an apparition, he floated into view. Then, like a meteor, he dove down and collided violently with something in front of her. And, like always – his face was as cold and empty as the icy depths of sapphire.

Somehow, with a speed that was inhuman, Hiroto drew his weapon to defend himself. In both hands, he held a huge axe. The blade of it was made from a metal that she couldn't immediately identify. It glowed an odd turquoise, as if infused with magic. The handle appeared to be forged of the finest steel, carved and chiseled to assist the wielder in a better grip. It was massive – the length alone was taller than she was. How she'd failed to notice Hiroto carrying it before escaped her. But, what truly amazed her was the sight of any human resisting the attack of a demon lord like Sesshoumaru.

The place where the demon's blade met Hiroto's sparked with angry bolts of energy.

Sesshoumaru was still in the air, balancing in place as he bore down on Hiroto's axe from above with a force that could have rivaled an avalanche. She covered her mouth with her hands, waiting for the General to be crushed.

But.

He resisted.

Against all odds, Hiroto stood his ground.

The swirling energy snapped his hair tie, allowing his red locks to fly out in all directions.

Blood red against starlight silver.

Green jade against gold citrine.

Ferocity against perfect restraint.

With their hair flying wildly in the torrents of rushing power, they clashed like two dragons locked in a battle to the death.

The sight chilled Midori to the core – she feared not for herself, but for the demon whom she had come to trust, and the mysterious man whose kiss still lingered on her lips.


	11. Conflict

**A/N: I apologize for the long break between my last update. Life has a way of interfering with hobbies. Now, however, I'm hoping to hop back on the rail and get on a regular writing schedule again. Thank you for your comments and for encouraging me to return! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I can't wait to hear from you guys :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Limerence<strong>

**Chapter 10 - Conflict**

* * *

><p>Dragon.<p>

Dragon of the ages.

Dragon of the wastes.

Ruler.

Ruler of unending power.

Ruler of undying strength.

He was the burning sun.

He was the waxing moon.

He was the epitome of all things beautiful.

Beautiful…savage…cruel…unmerciful…

He moved with fluid grace – like flowing water, penetrating every crack in his enemy's defense, slipping around any obstacle set to hinder his movements.

Once he and Hiroto clashed swords, time stopped for her.

There shouldn't have been any emotion on his face. Over the short time she knew him, she grew to anticipate only coldness from him.

Yet…

Now…

There was more filling his eyes than she ever could have thought possible.

At first, she feared for the demon lord.

Hiroto's axe was not an ordinary weapon, and the way he wielded it proved that years of battle tuned him into an instrument of war. Vivid red hair, green eyes shining with fervor – he embodied righteousness; he fought for a cause. Human characteristics, they belonged to powerful warriors of men – they symbolized the finest leaders of her race.

Yet, placed next to the enigma that represented Sesshoumaru's own chaos, they looked plain as paper.

She now feared for the General.

Hiroto was fast – amazingly so – but the demon lord was faster.

Faster.

Stronger.

Volatile.

She felt every thunderous clash of their weapons in her heart . The demonic energy of _both_ unnatural weapons sent goose bumps crawling up her skin. And not just that. Something about the battle triggered memories – pictures, images, emotions, needs, regrets.

Midori watched the battle unfold with eyes that were no longer hers, but Kagome's.

Sesshoumaru's sword wailed menacingly as it crashed against Hiroto's azure axe.

_Tokijin_… a voice recalled.

Hiroto let out a vicious battle cry, pushing his opponent back with brute force. Her mind's eye took her past the image of the greataxe, to a sword just as massive and unyielding.

_Tetsusaiga…_the voice whispered.

Once, in a time long forgotten, Sesshoumaru fought just like this. But, that time, the opponent wasn't a great General – just a boy. She strained to remember, but reality wouldn't let her get far. The scene that continued to unfold before her shocked her mind and nearly stilled her heart. She feared to breathe, lest she shatter whatever bubble of immunity protected her from remembering more than she wanted to. Something inside of her told her that there were things best forgotten – for the good of all.

"Your resistance is futile," the demon lord said calmly.

"That depends on the perspective," Hiroto answered unflinchingly. "What is your business here, _demon_?" Hiroto pushed forward, the long handle of his weapon providing enough torque to force Sesshoumaru to take a few steps back. The demon looked unfazed. "If you've come for the priestess, then – "

"I _brought_ the priestess," Sesshoumaru interrupted arrogantly. Hiroto twisted his weapon around; Tokijin's blade slipped down its length with an ear-splitting shriek. He attempted to use the split second to slice at Sesshoumaru's shoulder, but the demon thwarted him. At the last moment, he jumped upwards, kicking the General in the chest. The blow would have easily sent a lesser man sprawling to the ground, but Hiroto regained his balance effortlessly, landing in a crouch a few feet away. Sesshoumaru floated in the air, his sword moaning with bloodlust as it sent blue sparks of its evil energy into the air.

_Demon swords…_she'd heard of such things. Powerful demons often used sinister materials, even their own fangs, to create weapons that wrought devastation when swung. It made sense for one such as Sesshoumaru to possess such an evil object. But, what about Hiroto? His axe was demonic as well, she could feel it! Yet, he was a human. How could he wield it? The energy alone should have been enough to melt through his skin.

"If you brought her, I should thank you," the General said with a sudden, wry, smirk. He stood up, readjusting his stance in preparation for his opponent's next move. "Why are you attacking, then?" His smile grew wider. "Changed your mind, Lord Sesshoumaru?"

_He knows his name?_

Midori – no, Kagome – placed a heavy hand on her chest. Who was this terrible man? Who was this human that was vulnerable enough to feel pain and sorrow, yet powerful enough to use demonic armaments?

_And he isn't even the leader of this rebellion…what kind of man is the leader, if he controls such a follower? _

She looked around, shocked to see that none of the men in the encampment rushed to help their commander. In fact, they all looked as stunned as she felt.

"You've encroached on my lands. I would meet your leader and know your motives before I kill every one of you," Sesshoumaru revealed.

"I'm sure you would," Hiroto chuckled.

"You know who I am, yet you still fight."

"I have nothing to fear from you, Sesshoumaru," the General said rudely, purposefully avoiding the honorific to his name this time. The silver-haired demon raised a brow in curiosity.

"You place no value on your life, then."

"None," Hiroto said with pride. "The only life I protect is that of my Lord, and I will die a thousand deaths before I lead you to him." He suddenly looked back, past Kagome, into the crowd. "Ryu! Take the priestess and go inside!"

"Yes, General Hosokawa!" a man called out behind her. She cried out in pain when the chain to her collar was jerked sharply, barely stopping herself from falling over. When she turned around, she saw Ryu's angry features. "Come," he commanded, grabbing her arm in a viselike grip. Unwilling to be taken prisoner again, she dug her nails into his fingers, trying to pry them off of her. When he pulled on her, she pulled back, gritting her teeth and putting her full force into resistance.

"Take her to the temple, _now_!" she heard Hiroto shout.

_As if I'd let you!_ – something in her mind snarled angrily.

"Let me go!"

"Don't struggle. Don't force me to hurt you," Ryu warned, his grip losing none of its strength.

Something exploded behind her. She craned her neck to see what happened and saw torrents of power rushing around Sesshoumaru. From her perspective, it appeared that Hiroto's weapon was absorbing all of Tokijin's demonic power. The encampment lost all order. Pandemonium broke out. Men were shouting as they tried to gather their provisions, some saddling horses while others just jumped on them and rode away. Whatever was happening, these soldiers anticipated it and feared it greatly.

"I won't let you interfere!" the General declared, his face contorting into a mask of fury. A trail of blood was running from his nose – had he been hit? Heedless of the danger, he used a spike on his forearm to gain a grip on Tokijin, twisted his body, and separated the blade from where it blocked the hilt of his axe. The spike held off the force of Sesshoumaru's sword while his left arm rotated the axe until the blade faced the silver-haired demon.

_Incredible_, she thought. _He's wielding that thing with one hand! _

Apparently, she wasn't the only one that was surprised. Sesshoumaru's eyes widened fractionally. The break was enough for Hiroto – he took advantage of his enemy's moment of hesitation to grab the other side of his weapon and swing it in a wide arc. Sesshoumaru dodged, but not fast enough. The bladed counterweight on Hiroto's axe sliced cleanly through the junction between his shoulder and his neck – a place unprotected by his heavy armor. Blood gushed forth, staining his white kimono with crimson. His expression didn't change. Kagome screamed reflexively, as though she felt the pain that the demon refused to express.

"Sesshoumaru!" she yelled. Desperately, she moved towards him, growling when Ryu's arms tried to hold her back. Later, she wouldn't be able to recall how she freed herself, only that she felt a supreme need to do _something_ to help the one that saved her life. Somehow, in a blinding rush of adrenaline, she managed to find a bow on the ground, abandoned in the bedlam of the soldiers' escape. Carefully, she aimed an arrow at Hiroto's heart.

Where, before, she saw only a blue glow around the demonic axe, she could now make out the shape of a laughing specter. Although the demon lord showed no sign that his recent injury hindered him, he was moving somewhat slower. The two were exchanging blows again. Each time Hiroto swung his axe, the menacing aura around it grew larger, devouring more and more of Tokijin's energy. Another well-timed swing grazed against Sesshoumaru's chest. Fortunately, it hit the heavy armor there, shattering it but not rending through flesh. In order to carry out the attack, Hiroto sacrificed some ground. Sesshoumaru took full advantage, pivoting around to stab the man's back. The General blocked his move – just barely. Still, it was enough. The battle of strength stopped his movements.

_Now is my chance!_

She steadied the arrow, visualizing its trajectory - how it would pierce the weak point in his armor. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the mark, trying to empty her mind of everything except a prayer to hit her target. Releasing the air from her lungs in a controlled burst, she let the arrow fly, feeling a small shaft of air graze her cheek as the feathers just touched her skin.

_Nobody can judge whether someone else deserves to die – only the Gods… _

A split second before her fingers completely separated from the end of the arrow, her mind flung her own words back at her consciousness. Her concentration was broken; her perfect aim was destroyed. As she watched the arrow fly towards the two men, time seemed to slow once again. She bit the inside of her lip.

_Hypocrite! _ - her mind screamed. _Who is judging now?_

The arrow missed Hiroto's heart, but it hit the head of the huge axe. The clang of the sharp bolt hitting metal echoed in the now empty encampment. She gasped as everything was enveloped in a bright, pink light. The collar on her neck suddenly tightened. Her knees gave way when a weakness unlike anything she'd ever felt enveloped her entire body. The light slowly receded and turned into a sphere around the two combatants. With shaking hands, she aimed another arrow into the whiteness, ready to shoot if the need arose. Although everything happened in mere seconds, to Kagome, it felt like an eternity. A drop of sweat tickled the side of her face as her shaking hands struggled to hold on to the bow.

_Never step away from me again._

Sesshoumaru's warning from her memory felt real enough to strengthen her resolve, the words carved permanently into the forefront of her thoughts.

_I won't!_ – was her determined, inner, cry. _This time, I'll help **you**. _

Coppery, tangy blood teased the corner of her tongue as she continued biting her lip. Adrenaline heightened the sensation. The pain gave her the resolve to keep waiting – to keep holding the arrow, ready for anything. Slowly, painfully, her eyes followed the ribbons of light as they fell away to reveal the sight of Hiroto on the ground, barely holding off what would surely be a death blow from Sesshoumaru's sword. The glow around the axe was gone, as was the ethereal face. All that remained was an ordinary looking weapon that was barely withstanding pressure from a glowing Tokijin. Sesshoumaru frowned and cut past the weak resistance, throwing the axe out of Hiroto's hands to land out of his reach. The General's hands fell limply to his sides, his eyes closing as he lost consciousness.

The demon lord raised his arm and began to bring it down to finish him off when someone shouted –

"Please stop, Lord Sesshoumaru! Spare his life!"

Kagome weakly lowered her weapon, watching with wide eyes as Ryu ran towards the two and fell to his knees.

"I will lead you to Lord Rinnyo, but please spare General Hosokawa's life!" Tokijin slashed through the air as Sesshoumaru brought it to rest threateningly against Ryu's shoulder. "He is helpless!" The man looked at her. "And you, priestess!" Despite the threat of the sword, Ryu reached out to her in a gesture of pleading. "Don't use your power again with that seal around your neck. You will surely perish!"

"Why should I spare his life when I already have you to lead me to what I seek?" Sesshoumaru inquired coolly. Ryu's gaze never left her.

"Without him, you will never be able to remove the chain binding the priestess."

"And what makes you think that such a thing would sway me?" Sesshoumaru pressed the tip of his sword against the man's cheek, drawing blood as he forced him to look his way. "All I need is the information you have to give. Nothing more."

Slowly, Kagome got to her feet. Perhaps Midori would have hesitated, but she did not. She marched to Sesshoumaru's side, the bow in her hand.

"The collar will kill her if it is not removed."

"How long?" she asked abruptly.

"Days," he replied gravely.

"This is a waste of time," Sesshoumaru cut in. "It is too easy to call you on your bluff." As he stepped away to move towards Hiroto's prone form, Kagome took his spot, notching an arrow to aim for Ryu's neck – a silent threat. "I cannot let this one live," the demon lord said with finality.

She knew that.

Of course she did.

But, some part of her continued to recall the sadness the General had shared with her.

"You do not agree," Sesshoumaru deduced, reading her expression as easily as an open book.

"I can't help sensing that he still has a part to play in all this." She pitied him, but her words rang with sincerity.

A beat.

"You've changed." Although she wanted to look at him, she dutifully kept her aim trained on Ryu in case he decided to try anything.

"I've remembered," she explained. "Not everything. Just a few small pieces." Sesshoumaru pondered this for a moment before stepping away from Hiroto, raising his eyebrow when he saw her sway on her feet.

"And that…?" He gestured towards the collar on her neck.

"We'll worry about that later. For now, I think we should follow this man." Sesshoumaru nodded, sheathing his sword. He stepped towards the kneeling man, picking him up by the back of the collar of his armor to make him stand on his feet. Kagome lowered her bow, relaxing her grip on the arrow. "Before we leave, though…" She pointed to the entrance of the temple. "I want to go there." Once again, her face radiated with several emotions that he could not identify. One, he knew – determination.

"One of the stones is inside. I can feel it."

They made their way into the temple with Ryu in tow. He stayed silent, meekly following the two with his head down. The main chamber of the temple dwarfed the three with its enormity. Its walls were littered with carvings of mythical creatures, deities, and prayers – all covered in gold. Such lavishness surprised her. In the face of the endless poverty and desolation that the lands experienced in the face of the countless wars of late, such luxury felt entirely out of place. The temple seemed to stand apart from all of that, as though it was from a different time. Even the aura here was heavy and ancient. Many had prayed here – many had dedicated themselves to the Gods here.

Candles were placed in hundreds of perfect rows against the altar and the walls. Kagome could still smell the dying wax in the air. The entire construction was created to center around the artifact in the middle – an enormous and unusually smooth stone. Glossy, rich, hardwood sprawled out to the cover the entire floor, except for the middle of the temple, where it tapered off into a smooth gap. The stone reached down below the floor into the earth, making Kagome wonder just how large it was. Its upper portion stretched to nearly touch the ceiling. It looked almost identical to the stone she and Akiko had stumbled upon the first time. In fact, if not for the difference in carvings, she would have sworn that it was the same one.

The seals were already removed from it. Just like her first encounter, the closer she came, the brighter the carvings glowed – an eerie blue that could have pierced even the deepest of shadows.

_Go to it_, Kagome's voice urged.

_Stay away from it_, Midori's inner instinct warned.

"Touch it," Ryu ordered, his voice echoing around the room. Sesshoumaru remained silent, watching the priestess closely. At last, she made a decision. She'd wanted this, after all – hadn't she? Leaving her home, her duties, her safety behind – all were things she sacrificed to find her past. Why, then, did she hesitate now, when the past stood just within her reach? Slowly, step by heavy step, Kagome walked towards the stone until she could feel its odd warmth. Somehow, that feeling reassured her. Looking back was not an option; if she looked back and saw _his_ eyes, she feared that she would change her mind. Quickly, as if to break past the final barrier of apprehension, Kagome gritted her teeth and pressed her palm against the surface.

The carvings beneath her fingers came to life, the mysterious letters moving to transform into pictures and images that flooded her mind with information. The collar around her neck tightened painfully before cracking and splintering into pieces. Almost immediately, she felt relief, as though a heavy pressure was lifted from her soul. She opened her mouth in a silent scream as light enveloped her, sending her spiraling down into a chasm filled with memories.

Both demon and man covered their eyes to shield them from the sudden onslaught of light. Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes, his hand reflexively tightening around the hilt of his sword. He didn't know what to expect. Everything that happened around this woman was – to his supreme frustration – a mystery. What started as a simple quest to squash the resistance on his lands slowly built into a conspiracy that seemed to stretch far back in time. These ancient temples and stones, the human man who could wield a demonic weapon, and the reappearance of a priestess whose life was consumed before his eyes years ago were all signs of disaster to come. He never doubted his instincts, and right now they assured him that things would not be solved by merely finding the leader of this madness. As much as he wanted to dismiss the possibility that a human could cause a demon so much trouble, he could not. The memory of Naraku was still fresh – the scab of the wound the hanyou left in his pride was still unhealed. Back then, he had underestimated Naraku, and his lack of caution contributed to years of endless conflict.

_Never again_, Sesshoumaru thought. _Never again will I make the same mistake_.

Suddenly, the light around the priestess receded. She stood stock still, her hand still resting against the stone. The carvings on the surface of the artifact looked dead now – like grooves on an ordinary boulder. A large crack pierced the stone down the middle. Whatever magic had inhabited the thing was gone now. He walked towards her, uncertain of the effect the light had had on her. The heat pulsing on his chest told him that the curse she placed on him was still there. Just as he got close enough to hear her breathing, she whirled around and held out her palms threateningly.

"Restrain," she bit out in a low voice. The response was immediate. Invisible bonds leapt out to restrain his limbs, making moving an impossible task. He didn't fight it this time, although his anger simmered on the surface of his thoughts. Again, the woman dared to attack him. "You tried to kill me," the priestess continued. When she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes. "You tried to kill your own brother."

A pause.

"You don't deny it."

"Why should I?"

"How _could you_?"

"He was in my way."

"And me?"

"You were a nuisance," he replied quickly. "That remains unchanged." Her eyes continued to bore through him, searching hopefully for any sign that he was lying. Upon finding nothing, she looked away.

"I see." She lowered her hands and the bonds around him disappeared. He took an experimental step forward, satisfied when he felt that all traces of her command were gone. "The stone held some memories from Kagome's past," the priestess revealed. Her brow furrowed. "That is, from _my_ past."

"Have you learned anything _useful_?"

Her eyes flew back to capture his again. She looked furious; somehow, that served to soothe his anger a bit.

"Nothing about these stones or the rebellion. Looks like this was merely a vessel for something – just memories, perhaps. Although, that seems impossible, considering that this thing is obviously really old." She took a step toward the man behind him. "Hey, what do you know about this? I bet your leader told you something about your mission here." Sesshoumaru frowned. The way she spoke was different than before – as though the formal mixed with informal in her wording.

"Not much," the human said quickly, bending to touch his knees to the ground. "I only know that you are, supposedly, the only one who can touch that stone. Anyone else that's tried was burned alive."

"You've tried to make other people touch this?" Ryu nodded silently. She pursed her lips and turned to the demon lord. "What do we do now?"

"If we are finished wasting time here, then we will move on."

"To find the leader, Rinnyo," she offered.

"You will lead us to him," Sesshoumaru said threateningly to the kneeling man. The demon lord pointed outside to where Hiroto lay. "Tie your leader up and put him on a horse. If either of you try to escape, you will find your deaths far from quick."

"Yes, Lord Sesshoumaru!" He scrambled to his feet and ran outside. Sesshoumaru followed at a slow pace, allowing the priestess to keep up as she limped behind him. When Ryu was far enough away, she spoke up.

"I remembered a lot of things this time." When he didn't reply, she continued to talk. "That night when you attacked me in the forest…that was Inuyasha with you. I said his name, then, but I didn't know him. Just now, I remembered. We had a strong connection. We traveled together and fought…someone. I still have no idea who, though. Something is definitely weird about my past. I don't recall a family or anything."

Again, he took note that her speech had changed, still wavering between formal and informal. He tried to focus on that rather than the mention of his brother. Somehow, it bothered him that she remembered the hanyou first.

"In any case, we should find this leader. He is most certainly behind all of these strange occurrences."

As they stepped out from the temple, they saw that Ryu had untethered two horses and was loading Hiroto's limp body onto one. Thinking that she would be riding with them, Kagome prepared to make her way toward the two, but was stopped. Wordlessly, Sesshoumaru wrapped his mane around her until she was pressed against his side. At first, she wanted to resist. Her memories offered her frightening images of him. However, he had saved her life. That fact alone made her determined to give him a second chance.

_Besides…we had some sort of a connection, too._ She didn't mention it, but there was one image that stood out above the majority of others. As they lifted off into the sky, she recalled it as sharply as though it happened only yesterday. Her cheeks flushed at the memory.

Once, they'd met without interference – an accident that turned into something more. He'd caught her bathing in the river. She sensed his presence, but didn't try to hide. Even when her eyes finally saw him, she did not move away. That night, she felt him following her back to her village. Just before reaching what she assumed to be her home, she stopped.

_"I know you're there, Sesshoumaru," she said. Turning, she watched him step out from the shadows. In the moonlight, he looked angelic with his unearthly beauty. His eyes wove a powerful spell around her, the tension making her fingers clutch the bundle of clothing in her arms too tightly. She feared him, but somehow knew that he wasn't here to harm her. Slowly, she raised her chin, unwilling to be intimidated. _

_"Why are you following me?" _

Kagome had yet to hear an answer. With as much subtlety as she could manage, she looked up at him. The question was on the tip of her tongue. Curiosity was always the one problematic trait in her personality that she could never trample down. At least, _Kagome_ couldn't. Because she'd lived for so long as Midori, the priestess was able to force herself to look away. Whatever happened between them that night – now was not the time to discuss it.


End file.
